Alphabet Adventures with the Granger-Weasleys
by Ohgeezits.lorna
Summary: Family life with Ron, Hermione, Rose and Hugo. Short stories with titles of every letter of the alphabet; some muggle and some magic. First Chapter explains a little more.
1. Intro

**Alphabet Adventures with the Granger-Weasley's.**

Set after Deathly Hallows. Before 'Nineteen years later'. Roughly around the summer of 2011.

Timeline: Ron and Hermione Engaged in autumn 2001. Married June 2004.

Rose born May 2006. Hugo born January 2008.

* * *

I've tried to keep dates and character appearances as close as possible, hard to do when new canon is being released and discovered.

Friendship groups; Teddy and Victoire. The New Marauders; James Sirius, Fred II, Louis, Frank II. Louis, Albus and Rose. Hugo, Lily and Roxy.

* * *

Victoire: May 2nd 2000. 11 years old. Blonde/Blue

Dominique: Sept 2001/Aug 2002. 9 years old. Red/Blue

Louis: Sept 2005/Aug 2006. 5 years old. Blond/Blue

Molly: April 2004. 7 years old. Red/Violet

Lucy: April 2004. 7 years old. Red/Blue

Fred II: Late December 2004. 6 years old. Brown/Blue

Roxanne: Sept 2006/Aug 2007. 4 years old. Brown/Blue

Rose: May 25th 2006. 5 years old. Red/Brown

Hugo: January 21st 2008. 3 years old. Brown/Blue

Teddy: April 1998. 13 years old. Turquoise Blue/Brown

James II: January 2004. 7 years old. Black/Brown

Albus: Sept 2005/Aug 2006. 5 years old. Black/Green

Lily: Feb 2008. 3 years old. Red/Brown

Lorcan: Late 2011/Early 2012.

Lysander: Late 2011/ Early 2012.

Frank II: Sept 2004/Aug 2005. 7 years old


	2. A is for Airplane

**The first of 26 short stories with Hermione, Ron and the kids during their younger years.**

A is for Airplane.

This was a bad idea, Ron thought grumpily as they sat in the departure lounge of a London airport. Hermione had decided that they, along with their five-year-old Rose and three-year-old Hugo, were to go on a holiday. He was fine with holidays, been to plenty within the UK, even to Egypt, though never in the metal muggle winged bus of terror. The thought he was to go in it and somehow, fly, scared the bejesus out of him. Though he would never admit it. He'd faced Death Eaters many times over, but that was nothing compared to this.

They were off to some Spanish resort. A hotel complex with multiple pools and clubs for the kids. And a whole week of Mediterranean sun just moments away from the beach.

With skin as pale as what he had, he would burn easily. The kids would be the same. Rosie with her ivory skin and red hair. Hugo with his equally pale skin and freckles. The three of them would spend the week sticky. His wife would be the lucky one. Hermione tanned into a lovely sun kissed glow. Her luscious chocolate curly hair would take the sun, caramel highlights showing.

As their flight is called, he wrestles with the kids to get aboard the plane while Hermione took their hand luggage. Hermione takes the window seat. Rose curiously beside her peering around her mother out the small rectangle. Hugo was in the seat beside Rose and Ron, fidgeting just like his father.

In a couple of hours, they landed in the heat of a small island. Ron's heart rate returned to normal as his feet touched the tarmac. Half an hour later via a minibus ride they reach the hotel. A large white building with a terracotta roof and many windows with balconies.

After checking in, they find their room via a large lift and long hallway. More white walls and light-coloured furniture. A couple of small sofas, coffee table and a tv. A kitchenette bar with tea and coffee facilities and a small fridge for cool bottles of water. A simple bathroom with a shower. Two bedrooms. One with a double bed and minimal storage, the other with two singles and equal small amount of storage. The draw of the pool is too much for the antsy kids, both whining. Ron offers to take them to play if Hermione were to unpack. She agrees easily to get them out her hair. She was grateful to have them distracted while she unpacks the perfectly organised suitcases, each one labelled and sorted so she could get the items to hang out first followed by those in the larger draws then the smaller items in all the gaps.

As Ron disrupts a case for the kid's swimsuits, towels and arm bands, Hermione applies waterproof sunblock to her children's bodies much to their annoyance. They squirm and complain for the entire few minutes. Ron stands at the bedroom doorway laughing silently in their struggle but huffing a little when Hermione throws a bottle at him with a pointed look to do the same. She was not risking him burning to a crisp on the first day.

Once Hermione was satisfied that everyone was thankfully protected she lets the kids loose with Ron. From the private balcony, she could see the red hair rather easily. Unpacking the kids clothes first; Hugo's then Rose's, hanging up shirts and hoodies for Hugo and then Rose's dresses with cardigans and hoodies before placing shorts, vests, t-shirts and then socks and underwear in various drawers. Leaving shoes on the floor neatly in front of the drawers. She does the same with hers and Ron's clothes too on each side of the wardrobe and drawers, flicking away invisible dust and smoothing non-existent creases.

Long lazy days are spent by the pool and around the complex or the beach. Hyperactive nights at the bar watching Rose and Hugo dance with their new holiday friends. Midweek Hermione and Ron make use of the baby-sitting service so they could enjoy a meal together. A blissful and romantic evening watching the sunset over the ocean, sipping wine after a delicious meal. Hermione missed evenings like that. Just the two of them. Kids changed things, though she wouldn't change it for the world.

By the end of the week everyone, albeit a little darker or redder, grudgingly waits in the Spanish airport for their flight home. Hermione had the appearance of being a little frazzled; the heat had made her curly hair expand outwards even when restrained into a ponytail. Combined with constant fingers being run through it due to a whinging pair of kids at current point hadn't helped. Ron wasn't much better. He was sat with a grumpy face of having to get back on the plane.

Rose was itching to stay. She'd loved the water parks and sunshine. Hugo had preferred the beach; the feeling of sand squidging between his little toes though he was quite happy to be going home and out of the scorching heat. Hermione was happy in either as long as she had a book and the kids were safe and happy. Ron preferred being indoors, the blazing too strong on his pale skin and the heat making him even more irritable than normal.

Landing back in the capital, Hermione muses; next time maybe she'd holiday in the UK with Ron and the kids. Or maybe she, Ginny, Luna and the other Weasley girls could go together. Enjoying the sun on a girl's only holiday.

Next time she'd leave Ron at home. But at least the kids had fun.


	3. B is for Bedtime

**The second of 26 short stories with Hermione, Ron and the kids during their younger years.**

B is for Bedtime.

In a plain semi in the south of England, bath time is underway in the Granger-Weasley household. Hermione was busy attempting to persuade Hugo into his pyjama top. The child in question was running around in navy blue shorts with damp brown hair refusing to do as he is told with a cheeky glint in his light blue eyes.

His sister was currently in the bath, splashing and soaking her father. Ron's t-shirt was darkened in colour, a large grin on his face in amusement. After bundling his flame haired daughter in a fluffy lemon towel, he carries her into her bedroom helping her into her pyjamas.

In hearing his sister, Hugo barges into the buttercup yellow room, launching himself at Rose who falls back, giggling and squealing at the shorter boy. Ron and Hermione watch them from the doorway, smiles playing on both their faces.

Heading downstairs they pile upon the sofa. As Ron makes them hot chocolate in the kitchen, Hermione helps the children choose a story from the small children's bookshelf. Rose comments Princesses with Hugo butts in about Dragons. They both argue the part. Weasley tempers flare. As a compromise Hermione chooses Sleeping Beauty.

Sitting on the sofa with the kids either side, sipping the just-right temperature drinks their father had made, she starts the story. "Once upon a time…"

As the story progresses she embellishes and enhances the Dragons for Hugo. Ron butting in about their Uncle Charlie in Romania looking after Hungarian Horntails and Scandinavian Short-Snouts. This piques Hugo's interest but is shushed by his sister. Their mother squeezes Hugo lightly in comfort so she can continue. By the end both young children are dozing and the story goes untold and unheard.

Hermione carries her son upstairs to his small forest green bedroom, upon her hip. Rose is curled into her father, curly red hair splayed over his shoulder. In her bedroom, he places her gently into her bed, tucking her in and pressing a kiss to her forehead as she snuggles into her stuffed penguin Pepper. Hermione does a similar thing with Hugo, giving up on persuading him to put a top on as he clutches Henry the dragon to his chest. The adults swap rooms, Ron pressing a kiss to Hugo's sleeping head and Hermione mirroring it to her daughter.

Together they progress downstairs, reheating the chocolate with a flick of a wand and curling up on the sofa together. A dozy late evening drifts by. Sleepily they head upstairs. The mugs will get washed tomorrow once the kids wake again at six. Tonight, they slept soundly with not a care in the world.


	4. C is for Cousins

**The third of 26 short stories with Hermione, Ron and the kids during their younger years.**

C is for Cousins.

The Burrow was packed the summer of twenty eleven. The large clan there to celebrate Arthur's sixty first birthday, albeit a few months late.

His actual birthday had been back at the start of February. Although, Arthur had been in St Mungo's with a rather bad case of the muggle measles, this took a few days for the healers to detect and treat. He was better now and ready to celebrate.

The next generation of Weasley kids had been sent to de-gnome the garden.

The three French Weasley's; eleven-year-old Victoire who kept laughing at the adopted Teddy Lupin. Dominique with her red hair, the only red-haired child of Bill and Fleur and two years younger than her sister and five-year-old, blond haired and only son, Louis. All three would speak in their mother's native tongue, secretive and confusing to the other kids in the clan. Rather than help, they spent a while frowning at the gnomes with a look of disgust over their faces. Instilled from a young age from their foreign grandparents that they were below such common tasks. Although Bill would firmly put his foot down and disagree, after all it had never done him any harm as a child.

Percy's twin daughters; Molly and Lucy, only distinguishable by their eyes, were stood preaching about how to correctly eradicate the pests. At seven they were rather bossy, akin to their father. Their mother Audrey, a little quieter and reflective. Molly had strange violet eyes, her just-younger sister, the Weasley blues.

Fred and Roxanne; with two years between them, had their parents' enthusiasm and athleticism. Happily pouncing on the small creatures and throwing them over the hedge in a battle. Roxy who was just bigger than the gnomes, was still ahead of her elder brother, although they were definitely not keeping score. The caramel and chocolate tones of their mother had shone through, both having the Weasley blues. The only physical links with their father.

Rose and Hugo were a little more cautious to the pests. She was happily joining in searching and throwing the gnomes with much gusto, as long as everyone else were also doing it too. Hugo was quite happy to let her do it; applauding when Rosie accomplished this.

At thirteen, Teddy Lupin was his deceased mother's double with his late father's height; distracting the kids with his ever-changing hair. He enjoyed making Victoire laugh the most. She may be pretty and difficult but gosh did he enjoy watching her face light up. His best friend was a girl. He'd marry her someday.

Harry and Ginny's eldest James with his father's hair and mother's brown eyes, was rolling his eyes at Molly and Lucy. For people of the same age as himself, just how could they be so different? He asked this to his younger brother Albus, who was his father's double. He simply shrugged, going off to see if he could beat Rose at tossing the gnomes over the hedge. Three-year-old Lily stood at the door in wonder of her family. A mischievous glint in her brown eyes as she observes her matching crazy coloured haired family.

James often clashed with their bossy red headed twin cousins, Molly and Lucy. Though they never actually fought properly, none of them did. She feels a hand upon her little shoulder; her Uncle Ron chuckling over the scene. Ron picks Lily up, throwing her onto his broad shoulders as she squeals in delight. The kids soon notice him; James and Teddy finally going to help. His three French nieces and nephew with gentle encouragement going to join in, pulling faces at the potato like creatures with sharp teeth.

Hugo toddles up to his father and Lily, taking Ron's hand as they watch the older kids spinning and releasing the gnomes over the hedge by their ears. Roxy soon tires of it, joining her younger cousins by a year, beside Uncle Ron.

Meanwhile in the house, Molly fusses with her now married children and their spouses. As she busies around the kitchen arranging and making food, she instructs them. Bill, Percy, George and Harry to take the large trestle tables outside once the kids had finished. Fleur and Audrey were both untangling twinkly lights and chatting happily in French. Angelina, Hermione and Ginny all rushed off their feet as Molly bosses them to organise plates and such for the guests coming.

Arthur, busy at work in the ministry, was oblivious to the chaos going on back home. The Head of Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office was contemplating on how to fix the Ford Anglia sitting in his garden shed, rather than paying attention to what was happening in the room. He was sure that Hermione had said something about just taking it to a garage to get fixed by trained muggles. Though all it would take for them to hit a wrong button and the car would start to fly causing all sorts of problems and bother.

By six pm the garden had been rid of the grumpy pests, through the evening they would sneak back under the hedge and resettle. All of the grandchildren had been cleaned up, grudgingly at least. The tables set into a square around the garden. The French girls had done a delightful job at stringing the lights which flashed and changed colour, draped in tree branches and on the boundary of the hedged garden. Candles in jam jars hovered above their heads and dotted across the tables, currently unlit, come twilight they would be automatic.

Molly thanked Merlin that Arthur was staying later tonight. As clock hands creep towards seven pm, other guests arrive. Headmistress McGonagall, Professors Slughorn, Sprout, Pomfrey and Flitwick arrive which makes Teddy's face flush in embarrassment. The soon to be third year didn't like having his teachers so close outside school. Kingsley Shacklebolt, now the Minister of Magic and Hermione's boss. Andromeda Black, Teddy's grandmother on his mother's side in whom had joint custody with Harry. The ex-Black matriarch now greying a little from her once brown features. She had lost so much but gained a new family too. Xeno Lovegood, his pregnant daughter Aunt Luna and her husband Rolf; the twins soon to be the youngest of all the next gen. The families crossed at Arthur's grandmother Lysandra Weasley nee Black, like all pure blood families did somewhere down the line.

The Weasley children and spouses help set the table with large platters of food, greeting guests and keeping the kids entertained as Molly apparates off to the Ministry to collect Arthur.

In their return, Arthur is shocked but pleased at the effort for his belated birthday. Wiping tears as he takes in the scene of his family and friends mingling and celebrating. As they settle at the table with metallic and elasticated party hats upon their heads, Arthur takes to the table's head with Molly by his side. Bill, as eldest, toasts to his father; Happy Birthday to a great man and the most wonderful father and grandfather, a son could wish for. The elder guests, tip their glasses before downing a Firewhiskey or a Meade while the children gulp orange squash, forbidden to have butterbeer.

After the mountain of food had been consumed and the tables cleared with the wave of a wand, the tables were pushed together allowing the guests to become closer. A large cake, baked by Molly in Arthur's favourite chocolate, is summoned. The six-tier monstrosity, four-foot-tall and bedazzled in chocolate sprinkles and juicy strawberries from the veg plot, was a sight to behold. Many of the younger members of the clan end up with chocolate smeared across their faces once candles had been blown out and slices had been cut.

As Arthur unwraps his presents he uncovers a theme. A rubber duck, a cake looking one with icing and sprinkles over its head to add to the many in his collection gathering dust in his shed. A Rubik's cube; all multicoloured squares in which had to get explained to him much to his delight. A lava lamp; neon green and purple levitating gloop when plugged into the electric sockets. A fibre optic light, in which the strands somehow changed colour when plugged in. A large complicated jigsaw of multicoloured muggle sweets. A double disco ball which rotated and reflected, casting mirrored effects once plugged in. A frame thing with marbles attached to it; Hermione informing him it was a Newton's cradle, Hugo pulling one back and releasing it so that it created a chain reaction much to everyone's amusement. All the gadgets that ran on electricity were also charmed to run without much to Molly's relief she didn't fancy the electracity bill that Arthur would run up with all his presents plugged in. It was worth it to see how happy her beloved Husband smile.

Surrounded by his nearest and dearest minus Charlie in Romania and the late Fred, Arthur truly had an amazing birthday.


	5. D is for Disney

**The fourth of 26 short stories with Hermione, Ron and the kids during their younger years.**

 **It's currently Xmas Eve, and as this is a short chapter I'm posting two today. This one and the next one -E. I hope everyone has a lovely Christmas full of joy and laughter, family and friends and of course presents. xox**

D is for Disney.

Rose is sat upon the sofa, squashing into her mother's side as they watch another Disney princess movie. Already they had watched Snow White, Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty. They were now moving onto Beauty and the Beast, Tangled and Brave. Rose loved Belle, Punzie and Merida. Hermione noted that her daughter loved books like Belle, had the energy and adventure of Rapunzel and the flaming red curly hair of the Scottish princess. Her bubbly daughter a bright star in her now grey life along with her brother and her husband.

Ron and Hugo were upstairs. They'd woken hours after the girls had and were now thoroughly engrossed in the second Toy Story after watching Cars and the first Toy Story. Gangly Ron was lounging upon Hugo's small bed, feet hanging off the end. The child in question curled up into his side. Hugo's brown hair haphazardly askew as if he'd just woken up akin to a certain bespectacled Uncle. His light blue eyes matched his father's focused solely on his tv screen and the animated cowboy and his friends. For though Hugo's favourite thing was Dragons, he'd yet to find a film that captured his attention quite like the real ones that Uncle Charlie looked after. Though Ron had found another animation studio had recently released one of Norse people which Hugo would love.

A lazy movie was just what was recommended. The Granger-Weasley's would be getting split up come the end of the summer. Rose was to start in a muggle school in September, Hugo in the adjoining nursey for a run of mornings. These quiet relaxed days were running out of time. Hermione would return to the ministry working nine to five. Ron would be helping George at WWW, flexible for to pick up Hugo at lunch time and then Rose at three. Hugo would spend the afternoon at Granny Molly's with Roxy and Lily before coming home at half past three to his father and sister.

They would settle into a new routine. The school term would bring change. The next step in their lives would begin.


	6. E is for Elves

**The fifth of 26 short stories with Hermione, Ron and the kids during their younger years. Kind of in Molly's perspective opposed to the G-W's as normal. Admittedly struggled to think how things could be linked in for this chapter.**

 **As stated in the previous chapter, this is the second of two because it's Christmas. Happy Holidays. xox**

E is For Elves.

Molly looks on over the garden of The Burrow at her large brood of grandchildren. All thirteen are sat in a large circle sprawled across the lawn listening to the latest addition to the family tell tales.

All her life Molly had done things on her own or with the help of Arthur and the kids. The kids were no longer kids, all grown up and with children of their own. Having seven children was hard. With six boys followed by little Ginny, she and Arthur were blessed. The house was cramped a little, but always felt like home. Everyone mucked in when need be. It was the way things were. She'd grown up in a similar way; a busy and informal household with her two brothers who she'd lost during the first wizarding war. Gideon and Fabian would have loved their niece and nephews and the extended family. She wouldn't have it any other way. But now with the expanding brood relying on her while they had busy jobs, looking after them all was tiring and hard work.

The House Elf came as a surprise; being recommended and gifted from Harry and Ginny via Headmistress McGonagall. The elderly female Elf, a little rounded and softer around the edges with greying hair and large brown eyes had small ears and circular face. Just like Molly herself she supposed with a sigh.

Mitzy had fit in straight away although it was strange having an extra pair of hands to help. She addressed Molly as Mrs and Arthur as Mr. Molly wasn't having any of the Master and Mistress malarkey. The kids had been wary of her at first, especially Hugo, Lily and Roxy with being the youngest of the gang and not much taller than the Elf. Teddy, used to House Elves at school, had taken it in his stride. He may be Remus' and Nymphadora's boy but he was still family. He and his grandmother Andromeda had been embraced with open arms. After all, she'd lost her husband, daughter and son in law while fighting by their sides too.

Mitzy, using Elf magic, projects a familiar scene from her palm in the air so the kids can follow the story. That of Dobby, the Free Elf. The kids would never know him. As Harry and Ginny, and Ron and Hermione join Molly's side they too watch in wonder and fondness.

The children sit enraptured by the tale of how brave Dobby was rescuing their parents from Malfoy Manor though paid the consequence of Bellatrix's wrath eventually dying at Shell Cottage, with the more harsher bits edited out. The French Weasley's nodded at this, knowing of the Elves' grave in their garden. The Elf once used to belong to Mrs Lestrange's sister, Mrs Malfoy, who was just a little kinder towards Dobby than her cruel husband. This made the youngest's lips wobble a little until Mitzy tells them how Harry had once rescued and freed Dobby by placing one of his socks inside a Tom Riddle's diary in which Lucius had removed the sock from and thrown at Dobby. The kids asked if the sock was stinky, Mitzy presumed so, although told them to check with Mr Potter.

Dobby went to work at Hogwarts in the kitchens for a galleon a week and one day off a month. He'd negotiated this with Headmaster Dumbledore, though it was frowned against by many. House Elves could not be free from their Masters unless presented with an item of clothing though most would wear a sack or tea towel. Mitzy herself, being retired, was happy in a pale pink blouse and blue skirt after Molly had insisted to fix it to her size. She was not Mrs Weasley's slave but an equal there to help with chores and with the children in babysitting.

The Elf with the round head and bright green eyes morphs into a smaller female Elf with bat like ears, a tomato-y nose and brown eyes, similar to that of Mitzy's.

Winky also resided at Hogwarts after being dismissed by the Crouch's. Mitzy explains to the children that she didn't take it too well, drinking far too much butterbeer and crying in front of the fire a lot, getting her blouse and skirt in a right state from the sparks and alcohol. This cheered the youngsters up a little though they felt sorry for her too. They enquire about her whereabouts now.

Winky had participated in the Battle of Hogwarts along with the other school House Elves, along with Mitzy, facing the Death Eaters. And was still there now, getting upset over her ex owners' death's and turning to butterbeer when so, although was better most of the time. A drunk House Elf was an amusing thought, even to the adults watching, although the circumstances were a little sad. Barty Crouch Jr had taken advantage, killed his own father impersonated a Professor and suffered the Kiss. The kids screwed their noses up at the thought of being kissed until Mitzy explains that it was by a dementor which sucked the life out of the person. This caused Rose, Louis and Albus to start hyperventilating a little along with Hugo, Lily and Roxy who promptly bursts into tears. The older kids comforting their cousins though a little shell shocked themselves over the harshness. Mitzy comments that her cousins' behaviour in being a freed Elf, was not a matter of choice and that it gave the elves a bad name. But Winky could only help herself.

Mitzy then tells the tale of Kreacher. The Elf in question, old and pointy, narrow and downturned with an attitude to match. A large snout-like nose and the usual bat ears with bloodshot eyes. The House of Black Elf truly loved his Mistress Walburga and Master Regulus, though he technically belonged to Harry after Master Sirius' death. After in which he, like Dobby and Winky, served in the castle kitchens.

His loyalty to Harry came through Master Reg. The destruction of Slytherin's Locket in which Harry had gifted Kreacher with the artificial one, which Reg had swapped out in order to destroy Voldemort from within his own ranks. His own Black heirloom which made the Elf change his view on Harry, he wasn't as bad as Sirius for Sirius treated him with distain. Though forever loyal to his Master Regulus.

It was through Kreacher, and Sirius' instruction to leave the kitchen that the Elf left for the Malfoy's, using Harry and Sirius' closeness against them. In a roundabout way, this caused Sirius' death due to The Order having to rescue the golden and silver trio. When questioned to who the trios were, Mitzy simply turns to the window motioning at their parents watching on.

She then explains that during the Battle of Hogwarts, Kreacher was the one who lead the Elves into the battle. Fighting the Dark Lord in the name of brave Regulus. Elf magic was stronger and unknown than that of the Death Eaters.

House Elves were now treated a little better thanks to Miss Hermione and her SPEW. The kids found it odd that sick was something to do with Elves until Rose and Hugo, along with Mitzy's help explained otherwise. The Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare was Hermione's doing in school. Lately it had re-founded through her work in the Ministry via the Department and Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and retitled the Elf Legislation. Mitzy insisted that Elves loved to work, it's what they had done as long as time. Though some wizards took a harsher approach to their welfare, this was what Miss Hermione had got annoyed at. The mistreatment of Elves. Although Hogwarts Elves were happy and content, except Winky on occasions. A lot of Pureblood families could trace Elves back just as long as they could their own trees. Things weren't so bad.

The five adults join the kids in the garden, listening. When prompted Mitzy answers Teddy's question to why she was now with Grandma Molly. Mitzy explains that she is old, she stopped counting at six hundred but was now getting too frail to be in school working in the kitchens. Headmistress McGonagall had put Mitzy in touch with Mrs Weasley due to her having lots of grandchildren and not getting any younger. This gets a chuckle from Ron while Molly simply shakes her head in fake annoyance at her sons' reaction. Mitzy states that she primarily was there to babysit when needed and help Molly around the house when need be. Rather relaxing compared to constantly preparing food.

Molly looks around her, at the grandchildren who have crept closer with the tales and to her youngest two and her adopted family. She'd watched Harry and Hermione grow up too as part of the family. And maybe, just maybe, having an Elf about wasn't so bad if it kept the kids quiet for more than a few minutes.


	7. F is for Firewhisky

**The sixth of 26 short stories with Hermione, Ron and the kids during their younger years.**

F is for Firewhisky.

It was the morning after the night before. Rose and Hugo awake to find Uncle Harry and dad sprawled upon the sofa in a tangle of limbs. Sighing softly Hermione heads into the kitchen finding two hangover potions. The mushy pea green, thick liquid would taste vile but helped with the sore head and balance issues associated with drinking. Only after the drinker had thrown up a few times would they feel better. Hermione couldn't decide what was worse; having to drink the potion or the throwing up. She places the two large vials upon the coffee table before ushering the children into the dining room for breakfast.

"Mama, why is Uncle Harry here?" Rose hops into her chair, shoving her curls out of her face with a flat hand.

"Because, Sweetie, daddy and Uncle Harry were out at The Leaky Cauldron last night. Something to do with the European League cup final." She shakes her head lightly, she barely followed the sport.

"Quidditch!" Hugo yells, throwing his hands up in the air stopping suddenly. "Mama, who won?" he whispers as Hermione shushes him to quieten him little.

Groans erupts from the adjoining room. Hugo's outburst had disturbed the two men. With wide eyes Hugo darts to his father and uncle. Today Hugo had a pj top on; a navy blue Puddlemere one just like his Uncle Harry's whose jersey was askew. He bounces on the balls of his feet as the two men chug the gloopy liquid, both pulling faces. It would take around five minutes to work. Hugo's head alternates between the two. "So?" He prods Harry's arm impatiently.

Harry chuckles at his nephew. "We won." A grin spreads across Harry's face as Hugo bounces around the living room punching the air and chanting "Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes."

Ron simply groans; he'd bet Harry that Wimborne Wasps would beat Puddlemere.

They had started off with a couple of butterbeers, watching the game on the screens inside The Leaky Cauldron. The bar was packed primarily with the male wizarding population who couldn't get to Dorset for the game. At half time both teams were even; Ron had then bet Harry a barrel of Ogden's finest that the Wasps would win. As each team scored they both downed another glass of the amber liquid. By the time the final whistle had been blown they were having the bar prop them up. Absorbed in a sea of mud brown and navy jerseys were singing loudly the two joining in tone deaf while the black and yellow stripes were drinking to commiserate. The score two hundred and ninety to two seventy.

Harry and Ron were able to tell Hugo this just before dashing off to the bathroom. The potion had taken effect. Badly hidden laughter could be heard from the two females; Hermione would not give them sympathy. Alcohol and its side effects were purely self-inflicted. Although she did enjoy a large glass of red when time allowed, especially with a book, a long hot bubble bath and scented candles. Simple pleasures.

Rose and her mother join in Hugo's dancing and celebrating while the men could be heard retching from upstairs. They appear in the doorway looking a touch pale and clammy but less unsteady on their feet. The kids and Hermione take one sofa, Ron and Harry the other. They take them through play by play, tallying up the total amount of alcohol consumed.

Too few butterbeers and far too many whiskys. The hangover potion really wasn't worth it, although it was better than suffering the muggle way. Ron owed Harry the barrel, grudgingly given later in the day.

Firewhisky and a Quiddtich Final were a bad combination.


	8. G is for Granny and Grandad Granger

**The seventh of 26 short stories with Hermione, Ron and the kids during their younger years.**

 **A/N due to not knowing the Grangers' names, I've chosen to use Hermione's middle name for her mother. Her father's name is in the top 10 for both 1940 and 1950s and has the same meaning as her mothers.**

G is for Granny and Grandad Granger.

Hermione pulls the family car into an empty parking space outside her childhood home in Hampstead, London. Ron is sat in the passenger seat with a grumpy face, the tips of his ears reddening by the second. In the back, slumped in his car seat, Hugo is fast asleep. Rose is staring out the window with a tired look upon her face from just wakening up a short while ago. The kids always got tired when traveling.

Hermione's mother, Jean, stands watching from the pale blue front door protected from the slight drizzle by a small white painted wooden triangular shelter. Her features, once so similar to her daughters and now aging, are obscured slightly by the trees and bushes covering the boundary of the garden. Jean's now slightly greying hair was covered by muggle dye, not quite matching the once shiny dark brown hair of her youth. The ex-dentist grinning widely at her visitors as Hermione straightens up the black automobile into the space.

Further up the road, on the other side of the cross roads, the church can be seen. The tall spire noticeable from further afield. It was in here where the Grangers had been married in the late 1960's and had their daughter christened at the start of 1980. The place held memories of days before magic had truly existed in their world, minus the slightly strange things their unique daughter could do. Hermione as a child; once she had discovered books and constantly read, could be found to summon them by thought, not fully out the bookcase but enough to shift out of line. This, they had once mused, was akin to a certain book released when she was around eight or nine. The book contained something incredibly familiar to their daughter although she was never quite as extreme with the magical ability to that of Miss Matilda.

Rose walks sensibly to her Granny, refraining from stepping on the cracks in the path, she didn't usually fuss with superstition like that. Ron carries a still sleeping Hugo upon his hip, following Hermione and Rose a little slower than necessary. There were far too many unfamiliar things in the muggle house. Jean crouches to greet her granddaughter, pulling her close and commenting how lovely she looks today in her new pale-yellow dress, which today was worn with tights and boots and an open bright yellow rain mac. She kisses her daughter and son in laws cheeks, stroking Hugo's tangle of hair before shutting the door behind them quietly.

Hermione's father, John, is reclining in the armchair with the footrest up, thoroughly engrossed in a real estate programme. The family in question are trying moving to the Antipodes for two weeks to see if they could live there permanently. Rose hops upon her grandfather's lap, asking questions in a hushed whisper. Hermione and Ron perching next to each other on the sofa, Hugo lying across their laps still fast asleep. He, like Ron, seemed to have the ability to sleep through anything.

Jean, noting Rose's curiosity, slips out the room. Outside the two cocker spaniels can be heard barking as she enters the dining room, searching through a cupboard. She retrieves a photo album, wiping a fine layer of dust from the cover with a finger. Slipping back into the living room she leaves the album in her chair, making everyone cups of tea and waiting patiently for the five minutes or so for the show to end. During this, Hugo awakens, groggily wiping his eyes with the back of his hand and curling into his mother. The family on the television choose to move to Oz, embracing the relaxed way of beach life. The kids are just older than Rose and Hugo. Large smiles grace the family's face. A new life awaited, much to John's delight.

Rose is the first to notice the album upon Jean's lap, John the second, a small smile playing upon his lips. Opening the album to the first page there's a postcard. The front has various landmarks; Sydney Opera House and Ayers Rock being the most notable. The back is inscribed 'Wednesday 16th of July 1997. Our first day in Australia.' The opposing page had a photograph of Jean, wearing dark blue shorts with a black t-shirt and flips flops alongside her husband in a similar outfit but with a panama hat covering his lighter brown hair, posing outside of an airplane. Clear blue skies can be seen behind them and a clip of a terminal to the side, the majority of the building out of shot. Ron shudders at the response to the large aircraft.

The rest of the album contains snapshots of their life there. Of long sandy beaches and azure skies. Of sky rise buildings and open expanses of outback. Of koalas, kangaroos and kookaburras. And the blue sailing boat the John had gotten attached to and had converted him into a life on the water whenever he could. Jean explains to Rose and Hugo that they spent a while there with the dogs and opened a sweet shop in Sydney. Ron snorted a little at the irony as Hermione gives him a look from the corner of her eye. They came home the following August, spending a little over a year there. Jean and John admitted to missing the sunshine and warmth though preferred being in the UK close to their darling daughter and her family. Hermione and Ron simply share a look. Altering their memories was for the best, to keep them safe during the war. Hermione had tweaked it on their return so that Australia would be a holiday of sorts in recollection rather than a blackout. They had no recollection of being Monica and Wendell Wilkins, a surname that Hermione had once spotted on a gravestone.

Rose and Hugo loved their Granger Grandparents but wasn't so close to them as they were to Molly and Arthur. Ron mused on the way out that maybe that's how magic worked. And boy, his family were magic.


	9. H is for Hugo

**The eighth of 26 short stories with Hermione, Ron and the kids during their younger years. Making this chapter more of a fact file thing, Rose's chapter will be the same.**

 _And Happy New Year everyone. x_

H is for Hugo.

Full Name: Hugo Alastor Granger-Weasley.

Named after Victor Hugo, The Hunchback of Notre Dame and Les Miserables. Hermione's favourite author. Middle name to honour the late, great, Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody.

Born: 21/1/2008 - a winter baby.

Star Sign: Aquarius; Friendly, Honest, Independent, Creative, Stubborn, Contrary, Strange, Aloof.

Appearance: Pale and freckles with a mess of brown hair and blue eyes. Short for his age, chubby.

Favourite colour: Green.

Favourite Things: Dragons, Dinosaurs and Pirates.

Favourite Teddy: A green and grey dragon named Henry.

Favourite Family Members: Uncle Charlie, Lily and Roxy.

Favourite Foods: Mint choc chip ice cream. Sausages. Raspberry juice. Freddos.

Favourite Quidditch Team: Puddlemere, like Uncle Harry.

Favourite Pets: Crooks and Pigwidgeon.

Favourite Movies: Toy Story, Cars and How To Train Your Dragon.

Jumper: Grass or sage green with a yellow H.

Personality: Generally quieter, more thoughtful and certain when right. Curious, hesitant and cautious.

Bedroom: Forest green with dark wood furniture, looks out over the street.

Fidgets; bouncy when exited.

Cheeky grin but a lip biter when nervous like Ron.

Sleepy; sleeps through anything.

Messier; dumps things out.

Shirtless and shorts.

Beach and sand but dislikes the heat.

Newton's cradles and trains.

Loves the rain.

Scaly fabric backpack with orange spikes resembling a dragon, the small narrow triangle tail reaching the backs of his knees. It should be easier to wear as he grows.

Prefers granny Molly's fudge to the jumpers.

## ## ## ## ## ## ## ## ## ## ## ## ##

Hogwarts and years later.

Sorted: Hufflepuff in 2019.

Subjects: Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid and Herbology with Uncle Neville.

Excels at bringing the best out of people and is easy to get along with. Has a habit of creating study group which includes the Ravenclaw's who are happy to teach them.

Enjoys being with Hagrid in the Forbidden Forest, respects the Centaur heard who trust him.

Is barely passing yet still holding on after Teddy steps in to mentor him under Minnie's instruction. Is also popular but quietly so and accepting of others. Gets sick of being in his sisters' shadow.

Falls in love with a muggle born witch. A fellow Puff called Eulalia 'Eualie' Kaufman whose name means softly speaking Merchant. Hugo finds it rather apt as she's quietly spoken and is so patient with people. Ron and Hermione both get on with her mother as her father was absent. Ron basically ends up adopting her of sorts.

Hermione and Fleur knit her a Weasley jumper; a mint green colour with a yellow E plus another for her mother so that she is included.

Follows in Charlie's footsteps after leaving by breeding the miniature dragons that Uncle Harry had in the Triwizard Tournament. They become a popular pet in the Hogwarts ranks allowing him to have a small shop in Hogsmeade with Eualie being Matron at the school.


	10. I is for Ice Cream

**The ninth of 26 short stories with Hermione, Ron and the kids during their younger years.**

I is for Ice-Cream.

Hazy purples fade to soft pinks, oranges and yellows as the Grangers leave the house. Hermione's grip on the steering wheel tightens as she flicks the visor down, the sun watery and bright as dawn breaks. By the time she finds a space in the already half full car park, after a small tail back that snaked through the town, the kids were awake. Hugo with his bed head, still rather dozy. Rose had taken up her usual stance of staring out the window, a hand propping her chin as she kicks the back of Ron's chair lightly in a rhythm, right foot then her left twice then back to her right. In fits of slumber, Ron was oblivious and snoring lightly. He jolts awake as Hermione nudges him not-so-lightly in the ribs once they stop.

In the short distance, a stretch of grey blue differs from the fading kaleidoscope now turning into the azure blue of a warm day. A strip of curved sand. A pier and promenade stretching as far as the eye can see. The small seaside town would be becoming busier, Hermione knew that she needed to be here early in order to get a decent spot. It would soon become over crowded with holiday makers and day trippers like themselves.

The boot gets emptied first. The picnic basket with a red tartan rug which had water and fruit in it, as well as Hermione's things. Rose's yellow backpack with a daisy print, the soft tan leather a little worn on the straps and base. Hugo's green scaly fabric backpack with orange spikes resembling a dragon, the small narrow triangle tail reaching the backs of his knees, rather than just past his bum. Ron's blue sports bag, the usual quidditch supplies dumped upon the dining room table.

Hermione finds a familiar spot; not too far from the pier and about a third of the way down the sand, just to the second set of steps from the prom. Here she could keep an eye on everything in sight, constant vigilance. The pier itself, to her left, stretched out into the sea. The end of which opened out to contain the amusements and arcades. No doubt the kids would want a shot on things later. The long Victorian promenade behind them curved round the bay with steps and ramps leading down to the sand every so often. In the distance the primary multi coloured dots of the beach huts could be seen; their owners paying silly money just to have them for the summer.

Behind them the small kiosks and shops were getting busier, becoming cluttered with people and beachy knickknacks. The small bright buildings bringing cheer. Later, Hermione knew, Ron would complain about being hungry and would head up with Hugo and Rose.

Settling the rug on the sand, the kids get changed behind towels, shimmying into their swimming suits. Rose laying out her towel in line with the rug, the yellow matching her swimsuit. Hugo dumps everything out his backpack, the bucket and spade sprawling and curling the grass green towel around him like a cloak. All three pale family members moaning when Hermione mentions sunscreen.

As the temperature increases, the sun rising in the sky, the beach becomes busier. Music plays from the pier, screams, shouts and laughter echoing. Ron and Rosie soon head for the water, hand in hand. Little and large. Red hair and pale skin. Retrieving the camera from the picnic basket Hermione captures the movement. Beside her Hugo was happily shovelling sand into the blue bucket to match the two he had already done. As he flips it, he celebrates the sand holding, small victories. She snaps another moment in time. Knowing that he was content she pulls the latest must-have summer novel from the basket and gets comfy, lying upon her stomach, elbows propped with the book under her.

The baking sun shifts across the sky. Ron and Rosie, happily soaked, shuffle back up the beach, dodging hyper kids, frazzled adults and grandparents dozing in stripy deckchairs. Hugo's sandcastle consisted of four at the base plus another on top. This was currently being decorated with shells and pebbles from around their patch. He'd spied a flag that would look awesome on top in one of the shops and knew that if he asked dad, rather than mama, he would soon get it.

Ron sits beside Hermione, stretching his damp limbs out in front of him, wiggling his toes towards her face which she understandably flicks her head away from. He trails a prune-looking damp finger up the back of her thigh, making her squirm slightly, a smirk dancing across face. He knew better than to totally interrupt her as she finishes the page. Rose peers at Hugo's castle, commenting that it would need to be bigger if it was to be Hogwarts. Hugo just shrugs, he knew it wasn't supposed to be the school. Hogwarts was far too hard anyways. He thinks, perhaps, that Rosie also forgot that he was still only three at times. Things were supposed to be fun.

Twisting to sit, Hermione places the bookmark in the next page and then back into the basket before handing her husband the money. She requests two lots of fish and chips plus whatever the kids decide. They may be better with the box meals rather than a proper supper. Ron pockets the cash into his shorts and follows the bouncing children up the sand. Hermione takes a moment for herself, rolling her shoulders which were stiff from reading and applying a light layer of sunscreen. Hugo's castle, she noted, had a bare stick protruding from the highest point. She'd given Ron a little extra money knowing that Hugo had been staring longingly at the flags and windmills in the little shop next to the chippy for the majority of the afternoon.

Her family were soon back, Hugo clutching a brightly coloured meal box in one hand and a pirate flag in the other. A giant grin upon his round face. Hermione knew that he would have sausages in the box and a raspberry carton. Her daughter would have chicken nuggets and an apple juice box plus would nibble at Ron's fish when she decided he wasn't looking. Of course, he knew that she did.

The late afternoon is spent increasing the castle's size with the help of Ron and Rose. Ron lifting his son so that he could build his castle taller. Rosie skips about finding sea glass and shells. Occasionally she would stop, shove the curls out of her face and keep going. Those decorations she deemed as being too pretty for the castle was put into the front pocket of her backpack to go in the big jar in her room. Hermione had become re-engrossed in her book, occasionally snapshotting their progress. A short while later she's distracted by Hugo's bright eyes and messy hair popping up between her and the book. His soft body twisted with hers somehow. "Mama, see the castle?" he demands with wide pleading eyes. Smiling softly, she looks up to find a mountain of sand of bucket shaped castles piled as nearly tall as Ron and as wide as a hula hoop to support it all. Ronald's work. Laughing at her expression, Hugo hands her the flag after she's sat upright. The only piece of it that she partakes in. The rectangle of fabric flutters slightly even though there was no breeze, Ron's silent enhancement had worked. Sneaking the camera Rose takes a few photos, rarely her mother was actually in them, preferring to hide behind it.

The beach empties as the evening brings a chill. Grudgingly packing up, the young family cheer up when the promise of the pier is made. The allure of sugary donuts and melting candyfloss had proven too much even for Ron. He had to supress a rather big chuckle at the rude shaped sweets in the infamous chain of rock shops, settling for the long sticks of sugar with various messages inside. Hermione, who had gone pink when Ron had shown her the shaped rock, could already second guess the consequences of combining the sweet treats with the arcade and amusements.

Reaching the open span at the end of the pier, the bright lights reflecting in the children's eyes and the water below. The large Ferris wheel with it primary hued carriages lifting high into the evening sky. The ancient painted horses of the carousel bobbing as they rotate to the sound of the jolly organ music. The spiralling helter-skelter and its knackering twisted internal steps. The log flume soaking the onlookers who go near. The haunted house not half as scary as the things that they had faced as teenagers. The kids had to stop after that, turning green after sugar overdose and too many rides. Ron had hooked a large yellow plastic duck, winning Hermione a very large Minnie mouse stuffed toy complete with a red spotty bow. The two adults showing rare affection as Hermione kissed Ron, the kids giggling behind them, Rose shielding Hugo's eyes. The fascination of penny slots within the arcade, how the machine had turned a pound coin into a pile of coppery coins. Both kids scattering to the machines to win the cheap prizes, the plastic tubs grasped in eager hands.

Hugo won a whistle, a roll of stickers and a couple of lollies. Rose had gathered a small collection of chews, a yoyo and a cute plastic frog with a crown keyring. Much better, she decided, than the annoying whistle that Hugo kept blowing. Hermione had to agree with her. Ron had found it rather funny, chuckling as he hid the array of stampers, stretchy yellow men and chattering teeth with feet deep in his pockets alongside the kazoo and bubbles and pile of muggle sweets. George would love them, maybe, Ron thought, he could get something like the slot machines into the shop but using knuts instead of two pence pieces.

They ate ice cream on the way back to the car. Hermione, vanilla topped with chopped nuts in a tub. Hugo, his favourite mint choc chip in a wafer cone. Rose and her pink strawberry upon a waffle cone. Ron preferred Fortescue's but settled for the rather delightful blue moon. He'd have to mention this to Seamus and Dean, to put it on their menu. The two lads, Ron mused, were close, closer than they had been in Hogwarts if it were possible. Hermione had simply rolled her eyes when Ron commented that. Apparently, he was as oblivious as Harry, that they were together and had been since they were teenagers. The two wizards had bought and restored the ice cream parlour, now combining muggle flavours and sweets provided by Honeydukes into the mix. The business was back and flourishing. Not everyone could understand why they had invested into it. The story had something to do with being one of their favourite places, and Seamus' love for food. They lived in the flat above and was word of expanding into other wizarding locations.

Muggle ice cream, Ron thought, wasn't actually that bad and maybe more obscure flavours could be found.

A day of sandy toes, salty skin and smiling faces was coming to an end.


	11. J is for Jokes, Pranks and WWW

**The tenth of 26 short stories with Hermione, Ron and the kids during their younger years.**

J is for Jokes, Pranks and Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

The trip to Diagon Alley was a familiar one to Rose and Hugo. Through The Leaky Cauldron on Charing Cross Road, saying hi to Hannah on the way by, into the pubs chilly courtyard. Hermione had tapped certain bricks on the wall which opened up into the archway before concealing itself once they were through. Of course, they could have apparated or flooed, but with the kids being so young this was the easiest option. Skipping down the cobbled street they wave to the shop keepers and familiar faces. The children of two of The Golden Trio; the hope and happiness of the next generation. Hermione lets them run ahead, taking time to absorb her surroundings. The Alley was now scarred, it had not come through the war unscathed, but she supposed, neither had a lot of people. But they had survived. They were rebuilding, moving on, moving forward.

The kids stop outside Fortescue's; a plaque outside commemorating the once owner and war casualty. He'd been captured and killed over the apparent provocation of Death Eaters, more likely to have stood ground and defend his properly than to give it up so easily. From inside Seamus and Dean wave to her, taking a couple of sickles each from the till so Rose and Hugo could choose from the small muggle sweet selection they were trialling. Hermione simply rolled her eyes at their generosity. Hugo takes a frog shaped chocolate or two of the non-animated kind, Hermione remembering when they cost ten pence each. Rose selects two strawberry laces, the footlong chews being wound around her hand. Both giving back the sickles to 'pay' for them. Waving goodbye and with thanks, they potter down the street.

Outside the familiar shop front of yellow and orange, Ron awaits his family, Hermione kissing him upon the cheek. Rose stops to peer in the windows of her uncles' shop. The left-hand window full of items that moved in all sorts of ways. Popping and bouncing, flashing and vanishing, hopping and spinning, all rather headache inducing. The right-hand side was more of an advertising thing, the large main poster in the middle window pane rotating like the ones on a muggle bus stop. The now infamous Extendable Ears, a bit ironic given George's lack of one. It then changes to a Portable Swamp, similar to the one still cordoned off by Flitwick in the Hogwarts corridors after _that_ incident. The third reminiscent of a bygone past; yellow writing upon a purple background were pills that caused constipation. The wonder that was U-No-Poo. Even now it made Ron chuckle.

Inside the shop Verity waves, pausing from her cashing up. Rose makes sure to pocket her laces, Hugo had stuffed his chocolate into his mouth, finishing it quickly. The kids drag Ron back into the closed shop, Hermione follows, knowing better than to touch anything. Who knew what things would do? Floor to ceiling is a mass of colour from the various contraptions. Ducking, she avoids a Fanged Frisbee, the flyer just missing getting stuck in her hair. They take the creaking wooden staircase upwards to the warehouse. In here, George and Angelina were standing at a large rectangular table splattered with various mechanisms and liquids. Giggling can be heard from under this table, both Rose and Hugo darting underneath to play with Freddie and Roxy. Large high shelves contain various boxes of supplies, bits and bobs and clutter. It was strange how much it reminded Hermione of The Burrow. She notes the partially dismantled muggle slot machine standing in a corner, the internal contents scatted beside it. George commenting on how it had been Ron's idea from some trip to the seaside.

Once upon a time this area had been a flat which now had the walls knocked through creating a large open space. The actual warehouse used to be a darkened area behind a curtain beside the muggle tricks downstairs. In the days before the company had expanded into Hogsmeade and other bigger wizarding locations darted across the country. WWW was a household name.

The pranking legacy would have a bright future. Left in the capable hands of the kids, the mischief wouldn't be too far away when they were named after, and related to, two generations of pranksters. Poor James had it doubly hard, but as _The_ Harry Potter's eldest child, he could live up to both his grandfather and his dads' Godfathers' names. Freddie was similar to his namesake too, and would always consult his father in whatever mischief was running through his head. The one that surprised everyone was Louis. The blond haired, blue eyed, youngest, part-veela, French Weasley. The angelic look fooled everyone but his family. James Sirius, Fred the second and Louis Delacour-Weasley plus Frank Longbottom the Second were the new Marauders. The foursome could also gain a member or two depending on who was being pranked.

Hugo, although quieter and younger than a lot of the kids, could be seen sneaking things to his older cousins. No-one ever suspects the baby, well, him and Lily. They were born just a month apart. Teddy with his meta abilities could also come in handy. No-one could really verify it was him until he spoke. The girls were strange, sometimes they joined in, other times they didn't. Majority of the time they would laugh or roll their eyes or were the butt of the joke or prank.

For the Weasley's the future was bright. With having several heroes in the family and the foundation of a successful business in it's ranks, they never really needed to worry anymore.

The pranking legacy was in incredibly capable hands. The four boys solemnly swearing that they were up to no good.

Officially, Mischief Managed.


	12. K is for Kneazle

**The eleventh of 26 short stories with Hermione, Ron and the kids during their younger years.**

K is for Kneazle.

Ginny, Hermione noted, was relaxed. Her auburn hair was piled upon her head in a messy bun. Her toned limbs drape across the sofa in a comfortable manner. Very fine laughter lines now graced her face in the soft glow of the two lamps that scatted light in the Granger-Weasley living room. The red wine in her glass, clasped in her hand, had been topped up a few times over. Hermione, equally as relaxed with her feet tucked under her, knew that her face also had these faint lines, plus a few more with age and stress so young. It didn't worry her that much. She had also stopped counting glasses at her third.

It was a rare chance that they were able to catch up and have a few glasses of wine, just the two of them. Ron, Rose and Hugo plus Harry, Teddy and James, Albus and Lily were all off to watch Puddlemere V Chudley. The group was split. Harry, Hugo, Teddy and Lily. Ron, Rose, James and Albus. James and Albus rarely agreed on anything minus their love for the Cannons, who once again were bottom of the league.

Crookshanks had greeted Ginny with affection. She loved cats and often had played with the half-kneazle. Ginny kept the wine corks for the cat, knowing that he would play with them. It was either them, or Ron's wizard chess pieces. The half breed in question was currently snoozing between its two favourite humans upon the sofa.

He'd become Hermione's back in August 1993. Eighteen years he'd been hers. Longer than his previous owner. He'd been in the Magical Menagerie for too long, not long after everything happened the first-time round.

That was why Ginny had come around. She and Harry had been going through boxes of stuff and had uncovered photos which would interest Hermione. A still photo from the late 70's. The day Lily Evans had become a Potter. The inscription on the back 'Autumn 1978. Prongs and Evans say I Do.' In familiar professor-y handwriting. James and Lily would be in their late teens. Harry would have been born the following summer. Fiery coloured leaves cling to branches. Scattering them upon the floor in a carpet of colour not dissimilar to the bride's hair. The church of St Jerome's in Godric's Hollow, familiar. The graveyard next door was now where the couple lay. Lily wore a simple floaty white dress with sleeves. Her red hair left loose, styled waves down her back. The familiar green eyes unshed with happy tears. James stood by her side in a dark muggle suit and top hat, looking in adoration at his new wife. To the other side of the witch stood Harry's Godfather. The ever-handsome, Sirius Black. The dark suit and tie making him appear rather aristocratic. He'd forgone the hat, no one, not even Prongs, would have been able to get him to ruin his beloved hair.

As beautiful as the scene was, the familiar cat was sat in front of the muggle born witch. Hermione had gasped at this, easily placing the pieces together. Crookshanks, or as it had been found it in another image, Marmalade, had belonged to Harry's mother. In doing a little more digging from Molly and Arthur and Headmistress McGonagall, they had found out that James had bought her the cat in her final year. This, had been at the time, not long after they'd agreed to move in together after they left school. At Easter of seventy-eight, Marmalade had been a kitten, he was old now with arthritic knees.

Luna had noted that her Grandfather-in-Law's full kneazles; Hoppy, Milly and Mauler, were still going strong, had been since around 1991. She'd discussed the half kneazle with Newt, and was often curious to Crooks, often popping in for new things for the cat to try. They were known to live a long time, cats in general plus with kneazle in them; Crooks could be looking at another decade or so easy. He was older than the silly named breeds anyways; who would name a cat Hoppy? It was surely more suited for a rabbit.

Going by the previous events during her time at Hogwarts, Hermione and Ginny had summarised that the intelligent, playful, moody but loyal cat had clearly trusted Padfoot as Snuffles the second-time round and must have known him previously. This, would have made sense especially since James and Sirius were joint at the hip. Having been Lily's cat, he would have been around the Marauders. It also explained why he had attempted to attack Scabbers on several occasions. Clearly it had come across the rat animagi before. He'd detected the Traitor of Wizardkind before any of them knew anything about it.

Ron had grown accustomed to the over grown ginger cat with its smushed face and bottle brush tail. Newt, in meeting Crooks, had identified that it was crossed with a Himalayan cat, plausible considering the similarities. He'd loved him more when he caught the spiders and chased the gnomes from the garden. Less so when he found that the perceptive, problem solving cat had found where he kept the wizard chess set and chewed the pieces.

The kids didn't mind the cat, though struggled to call him Crookshanks. They resorted from being young to calling him Crooks, to which he still came to them when called. Hugo especially loved the fluffy lion-like cat. Crooks found him rather relaxing and could be found curled into Hugo's side being petted and fussed over. Rosie was far too animated for him and was most definitely a dog person, much like her father.

As the bottle of red was drained, the two females were both emotional over the photographs, both commented how lovely the trio looked. Crookshanks hisses at the door, detecting a disturbance outside, flying to the window all puffed up and angry. Yet the kneazle needn't have worried, going back to curl between the two ladies, wary of the large huddle of noise due to interrupt the quiet evening.

Puddlemere had won, Hugo was happy, showing Lily how to pet the cat as the others fussed into the kitchen. Hugo retelling of how his mama named the cat. The animal in question brushing against the youngest Potter, arching into her outstretched hand. Crooks was named after some picture drawer from Oliver Twist, a muggle book on orphans and another of mama's favourites, 'sept Crooks' name was spelt different. Hermione, hugging her niece, fills in the blanks. George Cruikshanks had illustrated Oliver Twist, written by Dickens. A classic in English muggle literature. Lily was placated by this, carefully climbing upon her mothers' lap and asking for a cat. Ginny's eyes lit up at this but comments that her father and brothers would prefer a dog. Hugo comforts Lily, knowing that his sister and dad are the same, and that he would share Crooks with her.

Ginny, Harry and the kids soon say goodbye. Lily petting the fluffy cat until the last moment before flooing out. Days later Crooks would be found napping on Lily's bed, basking in the sunshine, knowing that he was accepted in both houses.

Crookshanks, previously known as Marmalade, loved all his owners.


	13. L is for Luna

**The twelfth of 26 short stories with Hermione, Ron and the kids during their younger years.**

L is for Luna.

The Granger-Weasley kids lay under the stars in the back garden. The warm night was still around them minus the odd distant hum of traffic. Their parents had gone out for the night, celebrating another anniversary. Another small body shifts beside them, looking upwards into the darkness too.

Rose counts in her head; four. There were four Luna's that she knew. The first being the bright white circle in the sky. Another full moon. Space, she thought, was endless. Planets and stars, so many unknown. Maybe one day she could go into space and walk on the moon?

The second, the other small body that appeared. Lily Luna. The youngest and only girl to Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry. She was also more trouble that James and Albus put together, all squished into a pale freckly body with Weasley hair and brown eyes. Ginevra's double. Hugo understood her better, Rose thought, they were the same age after all. LiLu was the most bubbly, chatty and excited person that Rose had ever met. Like herself, the adults commented. But Lily was wild and carefree like a storm. Rose was more controlled than that. Lily was her brothers opposite in every way, but they worked together. Rose knew that he and LiLu got on better than what they did, but it didn't matter. The twosome plus Roxy were best friends.

The third, rather pregnant and due towards the end of the year, Luna was currently watching over them. Aunt Luna was mama and Aunt Gin's closest friend. Rose noted that Aunt Luna was different. Not in a bad way different, just, different. The way she said things and the clothes she wore was almost like fairies. She was mama's opposite in every way. Her dirty blonde hair was plaited out the way but coming undone at the edges, not that it mattered or she cared. Her silvery eyes matched the moon and told as many stories as what she did. Stories of mystical and magical creatures and her adventures as a Magizoologist. She and Newt were known to have hour long discussions on hard to believe in animals like Nargles, Wrackspurts and Crumple-Horned Snorkacks, though that one had been proven to be a lie.

Rose loved her Aunt Luna though she was sceptical, like her parents, to just how many animals she made up.

The fourth Luna that Rose knew, was where her parents were tonight. Bella Luna. The Beautiful Moon restaurant where mama and dad had their very first date after the war on the first of June 1998. Dad had bought mama a rose. She'd worn that pretty red dress again. Aunt Fleur had flooed in to do mama's make up and twisted her hair into some fancy bun. She was good at stuff like that. Rose knew the exact order too; it had never changed. Mama would have red wine with tomato-y seafood pasta and a lemon sorbet. Dad would have a beer and spaghetti Bolognese and hot choc fudge cake. Both would have a few more drinks and come home giggling and kissing and like teenagers.

The moon, thought Rose, in all its forms, was rather beautiful.


	14. M is for Mama and Dad

**The thirteenth of 26 short stories with Hermione, Ron and the kids during their younger years.**

 **A/N on Pottermore there's a list of 29 signs that Hermione liked Ron from the start, some of these are incorporated into this.**

M is for Mama and Dad.

Rose and Hugo had been told the story countless times. Their mama and dad were War Heroes. They were two thirds of The Golden Trio. They'd heard it all before.

Hermione Jean Granger had met Ronald Bilius Weasley on September the first 1991. Ron had shared a carriage with Uncle Harry. Hermione had been helping Uncle Neville find his toad. Her exact words are vague now, criticising his ability to do magic probably. The next were a short while later, she'd come back in her robes. She'd pointed out that Ronald had dirt on his nose, by the way, did he know? Of course, he hadn't, going to rub it off. Even then she'd got under his skin. They supposed it became a thing then. The next three times it was him pointing it out, never letting her forget. The first, toothpaste at The Burrow, the second butterbeer, and the third a speck of dirt upon her cheek. She wasn't amused by the last one, given the situation.

The three had become firm friends after the two boys had saved her from a troll on Halloween. The troll had been awful.

She'd corrected him in Charms with Flitwick, that had been the start. It was Wing-GAR-dium Levi-Oh-sa, not Levi-oh-Sah. The gar had to be nice and long with a swish and flick.

When Ron got knocked out by the Queen in _that_ game of chess. After Harry had moved on, Hermione had gone over to kneel beside Ron crying. He'd admitted that her gentle touch upon his forehead and her coaxing broken voice had brought him to.

He'd always bring her tea when she was studying. Two sugars and milk usually in a large mug rather than a dainty tea cup. He'd learnt it in the summer after first year just before the bookshop incident with Lockhart, the pretentious so and so. She'd offer to help him with his homework, usually just nudging him slightly in the right direction.

At the Yule Ball, she'd danced with Krum in a periwinkle dress. He'd wanted to ask her but been too nervous. He'd upset her that night. He and Harry were stuck with each of the Patil twins. He'd had a crush on Fleur back then, the Twi-wizard champion and lovely French girl. The majority of the guys had. Hermione had masked her emotions well, even around the Bulgarian.

A year or so later Snape had called her an insufferable know it all. Ron had defended her, the fact that she knew the answer. Why did he ask if he didn't want to be told the answer?

Fifth year she'd wished him luck before the Quidditch Tournament, kissing his cheek. He was puzzled by this, and kept touching it beforehand. He hadn't read into it back then either.

The nerve wracking Battle of the Seven Potters. Hermione had been paired with Kingsley on a Thestral. Ron had been steering Tonks on a broom. It sounded like something out a muggle sketch show. Bellatrix had wanted Tonks dead just as much as Harry. Ron and Dora had missed the portkey at Muriel's. Hermione and Kingsley had both been unharmed. Hermione to say the least, had been relieved, just had Remus had been at the sight of Dora. Ron instantly had gone to comfort her; her hands had been left entwined behind his neck even as she spoke. He had no idea, now, to her words but remembers that he was quite happy at having her so close. Both reactions similar though neither couple had noticed.

At Bill and Fleur's wedding, she'd looked wonderful in a lilac floaty dress. He'd asked her to dance, she accepted. They'd danced the night away. Harry in disguise had told Krum that they were sort of together. They'd been interrupted that night. Kingsley sent his patronus at the downfall of the Ministry and they had gone on the run.

At the café on Tottenham Court Road, her back had been to Rowle and Dolohov. As soon as they had raised their wands he'd scooted her along the bench and fired curses. He had her back. The café hadn't gone unscathed though they had tried cleaning up before they left.

They'd had moments then too. They'd fallen asleep holding hands in Twelve Grimmauld Place, exhaustion setting in. Ron had found the easiest way to comfort her was simply to hold her, folding her into his arms for a few moments until she calmed down.

He'd cocked up too, the horcrux filling his head with lies. Before he left he'd given her the option to come with him. Her reaction had him feeling like he was punched in the gut; he shouldn't have done it- making her choose between her two best friends. She reminded him they both said they would stick by Harry. He still had left.

He'd come back and saved Harry in the water. She was less pleased to see him, furious, or so he had thought. He knew now that she'd been upset, cried for a week or so though tried to hide it. Relieved when he came back, he was safe. The trio back together, boy he'd missed her. His shoulder had often bothered him in the tent, just old injuries he would insist, the muscle needed working. The only thing that had felt right was when nimble fingers had pressed certain spots as he stretched and rotated it. Usually, much to her mild amusement, he required taking his shirt off, less restrictive or something like that. It was hard not for her to peek, Quidditch had done him well.

He'd saved her at The Manor too, the only one to dive towards the danger. He had to save her, no ifs buts or maybes about it. It was hell not to be able so save her from Bellatrix. He'd swap in an instant. He'd always protect her. Physically at least. She beat him at magic hands down. She is the better witch, the brightest of their age.

Their first chaste kiss was at Shell Cottage; looking out over the surf. He'd supported her daily walks along the sand, building up strength. He'd instinctively offered her his arm, she took it long after she didn't need to. She'd admitted that if it wasn't for him screaming her name, she wouldn't have been strong enough. Ron was lost for words. Her words of thanks dwelling on his brain long after realising that she'd kissed him.

In the Chamber of Secrets, they'd both sworn they'd survive it together or not at all. All or nothing. Together until the end.

They finally kissed properly during the final battle, all sorts of emotions pulsing through them. He'd commented about the house elves. They needed to get out. Harry was thinking of getting them to fight. Hermione had instigated that kiss, was always concerned about the Elves. The fact that he'd verbalised it flicked a switch in her. The basilisk fangs had clattered to the floor. He'd dropped the broomstick and fangs that he had, lifting her off his feet as they connected. Harry was unfortunate to witness the occasion, awkward apparently or maybe the voice of reason; there was a war on after all. He held her tight; if they were going to die, they would die together. There was no way in hell was he letting her go now.

The general consensus; it should have happened sooner. Their relationship defined as skinny love; two people in love but both too shy to admit it though both showing it. It just took them six years.

The days after the war ended were hard. They were heart breaking. They were grey and miserable and full of too many people not coming back. Too many gone too soon. They were each other's lights in the darkness.

Three days after the final battle he'd asked her properly to be his girl. The days following were the clean up and rebuild. A day under a month after the war, they'd gone on a proper date. Their first of many. Bella Luna and that red dress.

He'd proposed in Paris. The autumnal evening on top of the Eiffel Tower back in 2001. He was nervous that day, jittery. Hermione read him like a book but encouraged him anyways. She'd cried as she accepted his words of loving her since he was a teen, of promising to comfort and protect her. Ginny had helped pick the ring. A simple silver band with a square dark blue stone and small diamonds either side. A cushion cut sapphire apparently. He'd recognised the smaller stones. He'd paid a small fortune, could afford to now. She cried even more when she seen it, commenting how similar it was to her deceased grandmothers. Thank the stars for Ginny, Ron had thought after they had embraced.

Their wedding was the only time that they hadn't gone to Bella Luna for their anniversary in 2004. Fleur had done her hair and make-up. Hermione's curls falling as a cascade rather than outwards like they did naturally.

Victoire was four and in a very pretty dress, her sister in a smaller version of it. Six-year-old Teddy spent the day making Vic spin in circles. Molly and Lucy were about six weeks old, poor Percy was stressed beyond belief. His doting French wife her usual calm self. Angie had been hiding her pregnancy with Freddie at that point, only a few months gone, he was born just before Christmas. James had been born at the start of the year, Ginny able to spring back to fit into her dress.

Molly had fussed over Hermione and spent the day in happy tears at her adopted daughter. Oh, how she had grown.

Ron, admittedly, can't remember much of the day. He recalls his new wife dancing in his arms. The curve of the neckline of her dress and how well it fit then flared out slightly, A-line she had called it. The long sleeves delicate. The lace covered everything but a deep V down her back. Modest but alluring at the same time. The sash around her waist matching Ginny and Luna's periwinkle dresses perfectly. The soft blue shades matching the sky. The hydrangea and gypsophila entwined. Hydrangea, he'd noted, smelt like the perfume he'd given to her Christmas of 1995. She tended to wear it on special occasions, charming it to retain its smell.

Their rings special too, engraved with Swish and Flick. Hermione had cried at them.

They'd laughed that day too. He never really was a dancer. Her face had lit up when he mentioned that he had been practicing. He'd danced with Minnie that day too, for old times' sake.

They'd honeymooned for two weeks. The first few days in Paris. The rest in the South, basking in the sun and exploring vineyards. Hermione liked wine, Ron tolerated it. He enjoyed the food though, always the food.

Ron made a point of kissing her in public, proud of her, of what she'd accomplished. He promised himself yearly that given the chance, he would do it all over again. Maybe for some milestone anniversary they could renew their vows like muggles did.

The kids had arrived too. First Rosie, then Hugo. Hermione had worked throughout. The Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures specialising in Elf Welfare, now at the DMLE for the eradication of Pureblood Laws. She'd finished school too, that year without her had been hard. He'd thrown himself into being an Auror. Lasted two years, he did. Something inside him was unsettled. He'd gone and worked with George, was still there now. Himself, George and Verity and occasionally Angie. He split time between there and looking after the kids, Molly looking after them while he was at work.

They'd invested in Zonko's in Hogsmeade too, employing another couple of staff. Neville often popped in when he wasn't teaching, still partial to some of their original merchandise.

Rosie was a shock when she was born. The red hair had been duly noted as well as a rather large set of lungs. Over due by three days, Hermione had finally given up and gone to the muggle doctors where they helped doing what nature was struggling to do. Rose wasn't a big baby, just sitting funny but soon turned. He hated seeing Hermione in so much emotional distress. Hugo was easier, smaller and three weeks early. Appeared in the afternoon just after Hermione had had her tea. By the time they'd got to St Mungo's, Hugo was on his way. The brown hair had come a few weeks later all soft and silky. He'd been a quiet baby, he still was until someone mentioned Puddlemere.

Rose was used to having people having opinions over her parents' relationship. Not everyone understood. Her mother was working on being less critical. Her father, his confidence and self-belief. Her mama and dad balanced each other out. Both were stubborn, she and Hugo had inherited that but they soon made up.

Rose decided then and there that she wanted a relationship like theirs. Someone that would comfort her but also challenge her. Someone to bring out the best in her. Little could she predict that it was the son of an old enemy. The one person that her mother had hit, and that her father was still touchy about now. But that, is a different story altogether.

Over a decade later and Hermione and Ron were still going strong. For you can't have Hermione without Ron.


	15. N is for Night

**The fourteenth of 26 short stories with Hermione, Ron and the kids during their younger years.**

N is for Night.

The kids made a habit of laying in the backyard, watching the stars. Sometimes it was at home; just the four of them. Other times they were joined by a couple of cousins. There was one time where they all slept under the stars at The Burrow. Limbs tangled upon blankets, heads together, fingers and toes and smelly socks, all watching sparkles in the darkness.

The circular orb the most prominent thing in the sky. Teddy too, at his grandmothers, was aware of the full moon. He felt closer to his parents on nights like this. Rose comments to Ron and Hermione about going into space, to walking on the moon. Ron tells her that she could do anything if she puts her mind to it. Placated by this she enquires about the stars.

Her mother explains that stars are made of glowing hot gasses which burn at really high temperatures. After it runs out of these gasses; hydrogen and helium, it spits out the stuff that it had absorbed, usually carbon, nitrogen, oxygen and iron which were created by the stars before them. It effectively recycles it so another star can be born. Muggle chemistry. It went over Ron's head.

The stars twinkle because of the change in atmosphere between here and there. Wind and temperature makes the light change in different directions when it enters the atmosphere so the star itself changes in brightness and position in the sky. Hence the song Twinkle Twinkle; Hugo begins to sing this. They know better to try and stop him, it was quicker and less painful to let him be.

They could be seen clearer with telescopes; like the ones in the Astronomy Tower in Hogwarts. Ron commented something about Astrology using planets too. His wife pulls a face at this; Hugo voicing his concern of what it was and why mama had pulled a face. Ron explains that Astrology was a branch of Divination, something that mama didn't enjoy in school nor believe in. Horoscopes and where the planets aligned at your birth was supposed to dictate your personality and traits. The essence of your being or something.

Rose had been born at the end of May; a Gemini. This supposedly made her adaptable, curious, talkative and lively but also anxious, shallow, inconsistent and cunning. Rose was definitely curious, talkative and lively and maybe a little cunning, sneaky would be a better word especially if she was trying to hide things from her little brother. Hugo in late January; an Aquarius known to be friendly, honest, independent and creative but also stubborn, contrary, strange and aloof. Friendly, independent and creative suited him and occasionally aloof especially when focused. They also supposed that's where the contrary bit came in about.

Hermione was a Virgo, Ron a Pisces. All a bit mumbo jumbo, Hermione thought. The Ministry Identity Cards used everyone's Sun and Moon signs, rather than their Dates of Birth; Hermione thought this to be rather daft when she found out. The logical thing would be birthdays not trying to make people used Astrology.

The two adults reflect back on Astronomy in school. To tracking planetary movements and difficult stars. Their OWLs and the blank star charts which caused much puzzlement as it was a cloudy night. They gave Jupiter credit where it was due; it's moons becoming something Ron and Harry had struggled with, Hermione as always, correcting them. Europa is covered in ice; not mice, Hermione muses making Ron laugh. He points out that Io had volcanoes and Ganymede was the largest, not Calisto.

Hermione recalled the moving globes and orreries in the Divination classroom and in Diagon Alley. The spherical objects tracking the solar system and galaxy. Muggles had something similar for the earth though less advanced and complicated, perhaps the kids would like one. Rose mentioned learning about space, Hermione promised that there were books somewhere, though they may be a bit too advanced. She knew Professor Lupin had left her a few with handwritten notes in, particularly about the full moon and lycanthropy. She would be better gifting these to Teddy; another piece in the puzzle that was his parents lives. Rose was disheartened at the lack of books until Ron said that he would take her to the muggle bookstore to see if there were anything more suitable. This made Hermione smile, her husband learning muggle things through their daughter.

Rose liked the night sky. The peaceful darkness. The strange lumps of bits of stuff and gasses that made stars twinkle. The fact that something so icky could look pretty. The big glowing moon. The darkness brought her comfort.


	16. O is for Owls

**The fifteenth of 26 short stories with Hermione, Ron and the kids during their younger years.**

O is for Owls.

Pigwidgeon, named by Ginny oh so long ago and refused to be renamed, had delivered the message. Hugo noticed the tiny grey scops owl first, perching on the kitchen windowsill. Hugo loved Pig, he was just the right size for him to handle. The tiny owl seemed unusually quiet today, normally a bundle of feathery energy. Hugo finds Ron in the living room, discussing planets with Rose. He motions for them to follow him, hovering in the doorway until she finished the page. She and mama had the same look if you interrupted them, head tilted and glaring out the corners of their eyes.

Ron opens the window, the small owl shuffling in and holding out its leg. Ron had become fond of the bird, his present from Sirius after his rat Scabbers turned out to be P. Pettigrew, filthy traitor. The rest of that story is history. The owlet had been batty to begin with, constantly flapping and showing off to anyone who would watch. Harry had dubbed him a fluffy snitch but with less control. But he was his, and only his, and now the families. Ron didn't have things that were just his growing up, rarely anything new and always hand me downs.

Pig perks up a little once the object was removed, settling on Hugo's outstretched arm and curling into his body as Hugo fusses. Rose pets its head before climbing up on the dining room table beside Ron, her legs swinging below the table, disturbing Crooks a little from napping on the floor. His face was unreadable. Rosie didn't know what to do about her quiet father, so asks about the letter. He reads the note aloud. Granny Molly was upset, Errol, the family's owl since before Bill was born, had died. Rose couldn't understand why; the big grey owl had lost its marbles long before she was born. Its bad eye sight had lead to it landing itself in all sorts of bother. It had a habit of disliking windows, and any other sort of small or narrow spaces. Uncle Harry had called him a big feather duster.

Ron knew that they had better go and see. Maybe at least someone would be there, perhaps Percy would gift their mother Hermes. The large grey screech owl had been a gift to Percy in his fifth year for becoming a Prefect. It had meant that Ron, as a first year, had been lumped with the rat. Only Percy would have named his owl after the Greek messenger to the Gods. The owl, like its owner, had thought so highly of itself. But at least its owner had redeemed himself, though was still a bit uppity.

They apparate to The Burrow with Hugo on his hip and Rose clutched to his side, Pig left roosting in the tree at the bottom of the garden. He finds Harry there with his brood; Ginny away with the Harpies. The kids were chasing gnomes again, Rose and Hugo joining them. Hugo and Luna both pointing to where they had gone, sending the elder children in various directions.

Harry had his arm around Molly and talking quietly. Ron picked up on the conversation as he sat the other side. Harry was reminiscing over Hedwig. Harry had been gifted Hedwig by Hagrid for his eleventh birthday. It had been his first introduction to the wizarding world after being locked under the stairs in Privet Drive for so long. The snowy owl had gotten him through a lot. Not only as a messenger like all the rest of the owls, but also as a companion. She was smart, proud and dignified. She playfully nipped at his fingers and ears but soon nipped harder if he offended her. She was noted to turn her back when in a huff or cuffed him across his head with her wing. Temperamental thing. She'd died in the Battle of the Seven Potters, hit by a Killing Curse aimed for Harry. He'd had to detach her cage from the sidecar too not long after. He'd lost her, the notion of it all proving that Harry had come of age. It was time to grow up; the innocence lost.

Owls weren't just for messaging. They were vital to the wizarding world.


	17. P is for Paris

**The sixteenth of 26 short stories with Hermione, Ron and the kids during their younger years.**

P is for Paris.

Hermione had always loved France. The country was full of memories with her parents. Back in the summer of 1993 they had holidayed in Dijon. The only link that Ronald knew about the city was that it was a type of mustard. Trust him. Hagrid and Madame Maxine had visited the city to find more of their kind in '95.

That summer had been wonderful. The city in the East of the country was one of Hermione's last proper holidays. The vineyards around the city had put smiles upon her parents faces; the dry reds from Pinot noir grapes and whites made from Chardonnay grapes. She'd stuck to water on these outings. Maybe that's where her love of the red stuff had come from?

The beautiful buildings in the city which spanned across various architecture styles including the archway similar to that one in Paris. The Palace of the Dukes of Burgundy with its arched windows and pillars, was now the city hall and a museum of art. She'd spent a while in the plaza outside in the sunshine. There were many museums and galleries which had made Hermione rather happy. The various churches with their spires pinpointing the landscape. The city full of multicoloured terracotta tiles arranged in geometric patterns. Touching the owl of the church of Notre Dame with your left hand which was supposed to enable a wish. Of course, her parents had commented about the link between the superstition and the wizarding worlds reliance on the birds. To Hermione it was something familiar in such a new place.

The Weasley's had gone to Egypt, visiting Bill who was a Curse Breaker. They had won the Daily Prophet Grand Prize Galleon Draw. It was the first time that Molly and Arthur had ever had a proper holiday. They'd explored some of the tombs, one of which had been filled with muggle skeletons who had broken in. The wizard placed curses had made them grow extra limbs like some sort of circus freak show. Ron had been glad to get home. How Bill had put up with the constant heat during the day and cool nights, he didn't know. Well, obviously magic would help, but it was still beyond the point.

Sirius had escaped from Azkaban that summer too. Lupin was the new DADA Professor; the best they'd ever had. They were gone now, into the Afterlife with James and Lily.

The next time they had gone to France, they'd spent the weekend in the capital. Hermione had absorbed it the best she could, trying to learn the basics of the language from Fleur and Audrey. The former would still occasionally put French phrases into English sentences when she couldn't think of the word. The latter was fully fluent; her father English and mother French, had grown up with both languages.

They'd gotten the train the Friday morning from the beautiful St Pancras. Ron, with help, had organised it all as a late twenty third birthday present for her. The adorable boutique hotel had been recommended by Audrey. A place that she had often stayed in while visiting the city. Fleur had chipped in with a to die for little restaurant down the street. They sat outside in the balmy autumnal evening, watching the world go by. Ron had enjoyed it there though preferred his frogs alive or chocolate. He wasn't too keen on the snails either; they needed to be kept in the garden, chomping at the veg.

The Saturday had been spent trailing the streets and sightseeing. The Louvre was beautiful; the art in it just as glorious, though Ron was less impressed with the fact that they didn't move. Hermione had taken a fair few photographs at the gothic church that was Notre Dame; lecturing Ronald on the story. The Sacre-Coeur and it's slightly creepy crypt. The Arc de Triomphe similar to the replica in Dijon. They'd wandered down the Champs-Elysees; stopped in the Place de la Concorde. Hermione had told Ron of the executions that happened there during the French Revolution. She noted that Beauty and the Beast would have been set just before this, so technically being royalists, they would have been beheaded. The children's fairy tale wouldn't have had a happily ever after.

Being tourists in the muggle world where no one knew them was rather bliss. No fuss or expectation. Come the afternoon he was getting nervous over something. He was fidgeting, playing with his fingers and biting his lip. Hermione had her suspicions but wouldn't ruin it.

Early that evening they'd gone up the tower in the lift, stopping on the first and second decks for the view. The wrought iron structure made Ron nervous anyways. His plan on top of that had given him jelly legs. In reaching the top deck, two hundred and seventy-six metres in the air, they'd taken in the city lights.

He'd taken a breath, a deep one. Methodically in through his nose and out through his mouth. He'd taken her hands in his. Hers tiny compared to his own. Their eyes met. His voice steady, unwavering, as if he'd practiced it a million times. In truth be told, he had, it felt like it anyways. He'd started it properly, using her full name. Promising to comfort and protect her. Of loving her since they were teenagers. Together, they'd been through so much. They didn't always see eye to eye but always got there in the end.

She had started crying at that point. Her eyes watering and breath catching in her chest. Her boyfriend with the emotional range of a teaspoon was discussing feelings.

Words failed her as he drops to one knee, pulling a box from his jacket pocket. Inside, a beautiful cushion cut sapphire in the middle of two smaller circular diamonds, set into a silver band. He wondered if they could be together forever. Nodding she tries to blink back tears and swallow the lump that had appeared in her throat. The cool metal band slips onto her finger easily. Standing he pulls her into a hug, gangly arms wrapping around her and pressing a kiss to her forehead. Their next kiss she felt all the way down to her toes.

The sapphire, Ron commented, was her birthstone. Hermione noted that in the evening light his eyes had turned a similar hue. She looks at the gems twinkling on her hand underneath the lights. This, she had decided, was exactly where things were supposed to be. Set in the stars.

The train back into London was a quiet affair, toasting with champagne courtesy of the hotel to celebrate. The pink coloured fizz was a tad sweet for Ron but worth it for the occasion. Romantic, he thought.

The fuss back at The Burrow a day later had been overwhelming. They'd expected it and wouldn't have it any other way. Molly had cried, as had Fleur and Audrey. Angie had denied the tears, blaming allergies. Ginny had kept hugging them, commenting that she'd always thought of her as a sister. Arthur had patted Ron on the back. Bill and George ruffling their younger brothers' hair. Percy had shaken his hand. Harry had pulled him into a bear hug. His best friend promising that if he hurt _his_ sister then he would hex him into the next century.

The last time, a few years ago now, was their honeymoon. A two-week affair. They spent they first few days there before heading to the South. Disneyland had been fun. Full of rides and meet and greets with characters. Ron was glad that she was happy. She'd been unusually child-like during the three days; gushing over characters and waltzing down the streets. Finding so much in common with Belle, primarily books and escaping a mundane world. Though he noted, she didn't spoil the princesses' happily ever after. She'd been adamant that he had to wear those silly mouse ears, hers had matched but had a dotty red bow. She'd bounced between the rides which had made him feel a touch sick. This whole world was new to him; she'd commented that it was 'A whole new world' and had chuckled at his confused expression attempting to explain the reference. It was a long while since he had seen her this happy and care free.

The following ten days had been spent traveling as they pleased in the sunny south. She'd dragged him to vineyards and beaches, churches and castles, various multicoloured ports with buildings up narrow streets that matched his hair. Long wide streets full of trees, sculptures and fountains. They'd danced in plazas and squares and market places. She'd tried teaching him things about the new country; his focus primarily on the food rather than his whereabouts.

But it had made her happy. He was happy because she was happy.


	18. Q is for Quidditch

**The seventeenth of 26 short stories with Hermione, Ron and the kids during their younger years. Apologies for not updating sooner, work has been busy and I'm ill.**

Q is for Quidditch.

In the Wizarding World, everyone had an opinion on Quidditch. The World Cup was equivalent to the muggle football one. The Weasley's all played; had been brought up with it since they could ride a broom.

Uncle Bill could play but was never on the school team. Uncle Charlie had excelled as a seeker and was captain; could have played professionally but chose dragons instead. Uncle Harry had taken over his position after McGonagall had overruled Oliver Wood. He'd struggled to find anyone that had matched Charlie's abilities. Uncle Harry; Gryffindor's youngest ever seeker had been discovered while diving from fifty feet in the air chasing Uncle Neville's rememberall the first time he'd ever flown. He'd received a Nimbus 2000 broom Minnie as a gift. And that was the start of it. James had been a chaser. Quidditch was in Harry's blood.

Uncle Percy was far too studious to play; although enjoyed spectating and refereeing. The twins had been beaters and had taken the term a little too literally sometimes. That, along with the phrase of 'touch wood' for luck, just to annoy Oliver before every match.

Dad was a keeper. A nervous one at that. He'd replaced Oliver who'd gone to be a reserve keeper for Puddlemere once he had graduated. Harry had been the captain that year too.

In 1994, Weasley was the Slytherin King. Ron, in being so nervous had done them a favour. The wet November a touch difficult. They'd come up with a song:

 _"Weasley cannot save a thing,_

 _He can't block a single ring._

 _That's why Slytherins all sing,_

 _Weasley is our king!..."_

Hugo had found it rather catchy when Hermione had retold the story. He repeated 'Thing, ring, sing and king.' Over and over and over.

Eventually Uncle Harry had resorted to apparently spiking dad's drink with felix felicis; liquid luck which was so much easier to say. Mama had figured out that he hadn't actually put it in, that dad had only thought he did. Mama was impressed that he'd used psy-cho-logy rather than magic. He had her stumped. Uncle Harry had outsmarted both mama and dad.

It was Aunt Ginny who was the best. For years she had been practicing; sneaking brooms from the garden shed. She was a chaser though could fill in as a seeker when need be. Particularly when Uncle Harry had been injured. She had joined the Harpies after she left school. She was the best chaser that the all-female team had ever had. After James was born she'd retired, writing for the Daily Prophet as the Senior Quidditch Correspondent.

Rose and Hugo knew that their mother had never been one for flying. It was one of the very few school subjects that she hadn't participated in. She happily supported Gryffindor in the house matches.

Rose had taken to flying like a duck to water and just like Ron, loved the Cannons. Hugo, like Hermione wasn't fussed. He preferred his feet to be on the ground. He and Harry dedicated to Puddlemere. He'd become awed by Oliver when Uncle Harry had introduced them. The Scotsman had been lovely to him; telling tales of Gryffindor Quidditch Team much to Harry's amusement.

Quidditch would always live on, and Rose had her Aunts talents.


	19. R is for Rose

**The eighteenth of 26 short stories with Hermione, Ron and the kids during their younger years.**

 _Apologies for not updating sooner. I've been busy with work and ill._

 _I've also been on a short break down to London to visit the Warner Bros Studio Tour at Leavesden for my birthday. So, as it is my birthday today and because I've not updated I'm going to be nice and post this one plus another. Oh, and Happy Birthday to Moony Lupin too._

R is for Rose.

Full Name: Rose 'Rosie' Minerva Granger-Weasley.

Named after Hermione's favourite flower; beauty, smell, love, Aphrodite. Middle name to honour Minnie McGonagall.

Born: 25/05/2006 - a summer baby.

Star Sign: Gemini; Adaptable, Curious, Talkative, Lively, Anxious, Shallow, Inconstant, Cunning

Appearance: Curly red hair, brown eyes, ivory skin, petite.

Favourite Colour: Yellow.

Favourite Things: Books, Waterparks and Sunshine.

Favourite Teddy: Pepper the Penguin.

Favourite Family Members: Dad, Albus and Louis.

Favourite Foods: Strawberry ice cream. Chicken nuggets and apple juice. Chewy laces.

Favourite Quidditch Team: Chudley Cannon's like Dad.

Favourite Pets: Anyone's dog.

Favourite Movies: Beauty and the Beast, Tangled, Brave; Disney Princess Movies.

Jumper: Yellow with a white R.

Personality: Curious, active, smart, alert, bubbly and energetic, cheekily sneaky.

Bedroom: Buttercup yellow with white furniture, looks out over the garden.

Twirling, dancing, hopping.

Leg crosser, window starer, table sitter, leg kicker.

Adventures and steps on cracks.

Shushes like her mother, doesn't like being interrupted.

Lines stuff up; organised.

Hates the rain.

Bare feet, simple clothes; block colours.

Daisies rather than her namesake.

Collects shells and beach glass in a jar.

Wants to walk on the moon; space interests her.

Yellow backpack with white daisies, a little more vintage and rough around the edges.

Prefers her jumper to granny Molly's too sweet fudge.

 _Hogwarts and years later._

Sorted: Gryffindor in 2017.

Subjects: Divination but with less scorn than her mother and Astrology.

Excels at flying and quidditch; a superb chaser according to Minnie. Natural at flying even in her first lesson.

Enjoys photography, primarily with muggle cameras and of space, easily done in the Scottish Highlands, so clear in the night sky without light pollution.

Is popular, brilliant, competitive, and ambitious. But is also secure, grounded and bossy but loveable.

She just wants to do the right thing and knows her place in both worlds.

Patches things up with Albus in fourth year after falling out over him being sorted into Slytherin and being friends with the Malfoy heir.

Eventually ends up being with Scorpius in their sixth year; slow and familiar. Rose always calls him Scorpion King which makes him chuckle. They have time to get their dads see eye to eye. Ron bonds with Scorp over Chudley. Draco enjoys Rose's sassy feisty side akin to her mother who he once had a soft spot for although would never admit it.

Both dad's meeting for a firewhisky in The Leaky Cauldron to try and bond for their kids' sake days after they announced they were together at sixteen. Draco commenting to Hermione that Astoria, who had died when Scorp was in second year in 2019, would have gotten on with her. This made Hermione a little sad that she would never know her Malfoy equivalent.

Hermione and Fleur knit him a Weasley Jumper, a mustard colour with a soft green S. They also make matching ones for Draco and Narcissa so they become part of their family too.

Works as the Astronomy Professor at Hogwarts but also referees the house quidditch matches. Scorpius teaching Charms to the students; a rare thing that two professors who were in a relationship teaching at the same time.


	20. S is for Sweaters

**The nineteenth of 26 short stories with Hermione, Ron and the kids during their younger years.**

 _The second of the apologies etc chapter see A/N in previous._

S is for Sweaters.

Granny Molly was known for five things.

The first; killing You-Know-Who's most loyalist soldier; Bellatrix LeStrange. She'd attempted to hurt Aunt Ginny and Granny Molly had stepped in.

The second; being a Mother with a capital M. No one hurt her kids; biological, adopted or married in.

The third- having one of the biggest families in the Wizarding World; akin to a clan. Twelve grandkids plus an adoptive one.

The fourth; her Family Clocks which now ranged in all sorts of sizes. The contraptions were now selling at WWW. Once Fred had died the hand was given to George who wore it round his neck.

The fifth; her sweaters, or as English people knew them, Weasley Jumpers.

Every Christmas everyone knew what they would get. A box of homemade fudge and a jumper, always just a little bigger than the last for the kids as they grew. Dad's was always maroon with a large yellow 'R' on the front. He often commented that he hated the colour, but everyone knew otherwise. It had been his colour as far back as anyone could remember. Mama only received hers the first Christmas after the war. It was a lovely blue shade, similar to that of the Ravenclaw house with bronze flecks through the wool and the customary yellow initial. Hermione had cried when Molly had presented her with it.

It was only when Hermione was pregnant with Rose that she truly learnt to appreciate the skill involved. Her job at the Ministry was stressful at the best of times, more so now. She couldn't switch off and destress. Molly had suggested giving it a go. The rhythmic click clack of the needles becoming soothing, her stress and tension melting away. She wasn't great with it; knitting a lot of plain rectangular blankets or squares to be sewn together, but it didn't matter. Molly had so much patience with her.

Fleur had learnt how to crochet growing up; producing lacy, frilly and delicate tiny cardigans and wraps for all the females in the family. She had a knack of finding the most beautiful of wools and yarns in a kaleidoscope of colours.

It was Rose's tiny jumper that they had all gushed over. The teeny buttercup yellow jumper with a white 'R' had fit perfectly. Rose had been in yellow ever since.

Hugo just a few years later had been gifted with a green jumper in a wool sent over from Fleur's mother. Ron had alarmed slightly at the colour until he was convinced that it definitely wasn't a Slytherin green. Truth be told it was a softer green, more of a grass tone or sage. The yellow 'H' was a given.

In time Rose had a habit of pushing her sleeves to her elbows and found the fudge lovely but too sweet. Hugo loved both but hands down preferred the fudge to the too warm jumpers.

It was also now tradition to have a family photo with all the grandkids. Teddy and Andy were included in this. Teddy was gifted with a lovely Lion red colour akin to one his father was known to have. Andromeda's brought tears to her eyes, the brightest bubble gum pink matching her beloved daughters' hair perfectly. Fleur had, on Molly's assistance, added a beautiful lace edging to the hem and cuffs.

The only person who didn't appear to have one was Molly herself. Hermione and Fleur soon rectified this once they realised. With the help of a little magic they'd made her one similar to Andromeda's but in a soft cream cashmere. The large 'M' was embellished in gold along with the lace around the hem and cuffs.

Molly, finally, after all these years finally had one of her own. It sparkled more than the rest. Just like the matriarch herself.


	21. T is for Tales of Beedle the Bard

**The twentieth of 26 short stories with Hermione, Ron and the kids during their younger years.**

T is for The Tales of Beedle the Bard.

The four of them were squashed. Squashed into Ron and Hermione's bed. Hermione on the left, Hugo, then Rose. Ron was just about clinging to the right-hand side, his arm resting across the pillows, fingers gently grazing Hermione's shoulder. Sleepy bed time tales from Beedle the Bard. The past nights Hermione had read them The Wizard and The Hopping Pot, then The Fountain of Fair Fortune. The dark tale of The Warlock's Hairy Heart and of Babbitty Rabbitty and her Cackling Stump. All a tad absurd to someone who was used to watered down versions of The Grimms' Tales.

Tonight, was the important one. The Tale of Three Brothers. The kids were snuggled under the blanket, eagerly awaiting the final story from the wizarding book. Muggle stories and fairy tales were common place; the wizard ones less so.

Hermione flexes the softened pages. It was a first edition written in runes; the one that Professor Dumbledore had left to her in his will. Eventually she'd also known enough of the tales to translate them into English. "There were once three brothers who were traveling along a lonely, winding road at _Midnigh_ t." Ron, who had had his eyes closed listening to her, smirked. She'd done it, Molly had always used Midnight in place of the original Twilight when they were growing up. She'd passed that down onto their children now. She continues on about greeting Death. The first brother asking for a wand more powerful than any other in existence – The Elder Wand. The second a stone to recall others from Death – The Resurrection Stone. The third in not trusting Death, asked for something that would mask him from Death. Death handed over his own Cloak of Invisibility. Together they become they symbol for the Deathly Hallows.

The Elder Wand, a single vertical line. The Resurrection Stone, a circle around the wand. The Invisibility Cloak; a triangle encompassing the two.

Dumbledore had noted that human efforts to evade or overcome death are always doomed to disappoint.

It's noted that Death's Invisibility Cloak has never been found. Or, more likely, like the third brother, that those who own it never admit to knowing where the cloak came from or choose simply not to boast about it.

Both Ron and Hermione knew otherwise. Dumbledore and Harry had possessed all three. Harry's invisibility cloak had often gotten the three of them out of trouble in school. It had been kept by Dumbledore so that in James' passing it could be given to his son as tradition. Dumbledore had been buried with the Elder Wand, Malfoy had ended up with that. It had become Harry's in Malfoy manor in those god-awful days. The Resurrection Stone had once blackened the old headmasters hand in the form of Marvolo Gaunt's ring which had been destroyed with the Sword of Gryffindor. He'd embedded it into the vey first snitch that Harry had caught in his first year, gifted to Harry in his will.

Harry, Hermione thought, had greeted death a few times over in such a short life.

The first example Dumbledore, for the elder was neither one nor the other. Neither white nor black. Simply just guiding. Voldemort had craved the Elder Wand and the power that came with it. Severus, the Resurrection Stone and his love for Harry's mother. Harry, in accepting his fate, greeted Death like an old friend.

She'd had time to reflect on the tale further. Harry's beloved map had triggered that thought train.

Peter was the first brother who hurt those around him to maintain power and died in the hands of it. Sirius the second, with his arrogance and passion to try and overcome death. For already seeing his loved ones die; Remus was the third brother. Fighting for the greater good and had accepted his fate a long time ago. His brothers were gone. Death, in this case, was the first marauder. James, who had inherited the cloak down through the generations, linking him to the Peverell brothers. James was where everything had begun. Peter seeking power. Sirius doomed to be beyond the veil. Remus finding comfort in finally being able to join them. James was where it all ended. The one waiting to greet his brothers again.

The Peverell brothers; Antioch of the Elder Wand who had his throat slit in his sleep. Cadmus and the Resurrection Stone who died to be with his wife who was thought to have died in childbirth. Ignotus and the Invisibility Cloak who after living a long and wonderful life finally came to accept Death. Being one of the sacred twenty-eight means that they were related to most of the wizarding families.

The Potter and Riddle families were descendant as were the House of Gaunt; all these were primarily through the female line in the House. The Gaunts were direct descendants from Slytherin himself and consequently the Riddle's. Iolanthe Peverell had married Hardwin Potter, passing the cloak down through the eldest children.

Harry and Hermione had come across Ignotus' grave in December 97 in Godric's Hollow. The same day of visiting his parent's graves and _that_ incident with Bathilda Bagshot. The author had also been a great-aunt to Gridelwald; Dumbledore's oldest friend. They knew of that tale too.

Hermione had figured out a long time ago that the parallels between the magical and muggle worlds often blurred. Her own little family proved that. Ron, a pureblood. Herself a muggle born. Their children, who were now sleeping soundly and had been since the end of the tale, half-bloods, which were now the most common of all the blood statuses.


	22. U is for Umbrella

**The twenty first of 26 short stories with Hermione, Ron and the kids during their younger years.**

U is for Umbrella.

The long-awaited summer rain had finally happened. The edges of the usually green garden had turned to a crispy brown. The leaves upon the trees crinkling instead of fluttering. The days of endless dry heat had been broken. It was still warm, baking in fact, but the downpour had brought a renewed sense of relief. The large bright red dome shaped umbrella shielded Hermione from the sun normally. She'd always made an attempt to apparate a stop earlier and walk home. The mild attempt at exercise each day done her good. It gave her time to think and reflect in her own head for the quarter of an hour.

Rounding the corner at the end of the street, Hermione spots a small figure in the patch of grass that they called a front garden. The bright green rain mac was matched with dinosaur wellington boots. Hugo was standing with his hands in the air; twirling, twisting and dancing in the downpour. The large fat raindrops, he would describe as being 'ploppy', had created a vivid rainbow over the house. Or maybe that was Ron's doing?

Reaching the front gate, Hugo spots his mother, a large grin upon his face. He runs to her, being swept into her embrace under the umbrella. His soaked brown hair brushes wetly across his face, Hermione goes to sort it, making him squirm away. Taking each other's hands, they walk up the garden path to the front door. Rose opens it, standing squinting at the dampness in disgust. For someone that loved water she wasn't keen on the rain.

Hugo was made to wait in the hallway; peeling off his wellies and rain mac as Hermione shakes the brolly outside before leaning it against the wall. A quick flick of her wand dries out all the damp clothing. She softly reminds Rose that without the rain, nothing would ever grow. The pretty flowers would soon die. Hugo reminds her that Pooh Bear said that 'When life throws you a rainy day, you just gotta play in the puddles.'

Preferably, he thought, without an umbrella.


	23. V is for Veritaserum

**The twenty second of 26 short stories with Hermione, Ron and the kids during their younger years.**

 _Happy Easter everyone; also Happy Birthday to the Weasley Twins. They would be forty today; another birthday for George without Fred._

V is for Veritaserum.

The world's most used truth serum had been beaten. The new one so powerful that it was under strict control of the Ministry. It was so well protected and under the radar that only three people knew of it. The first; the highly skilled potioneer who had discovered it and was to remained unnamed. The second; the Minister of Magic, Mr K Shacklebolt. The third, one of his closest associates who had approached him about it. Hermione. She was the one who had tracked it down.

The only legalised use for it; those on trial. Hermione had dubbed it the Sirius Serum. If, at the time, he'd been allowed to testify his innocence, they would have used it. He wasn't given the option of Veritaserum as, like its muggle counterparts, the results could vary from person to person. The Wizengamot would have still found Sirius guilty by clarifying that he was immune to the serum. That was a downside to Veritaserum; some people could resist its affects. The victim would always state to what they believed was true. Stray factors like sanity and perception of reality could be sketchy. Just like those who had taken the antidote or studied Occlumency could change the results.

Three drops would be all it would take, though the most skilled wizards would likely to dodge the bullet.

This new Truth Serum was potent. A single drop, or a sniff of the odourless liquid would be all it took. It had already been tested on a few minor offending criminals, Mundungus Fletcher included in this much to his annoyance towards Miss Granger.

Kingsley, in having gone to school with The Marauders, knew why Hermione was fighting so hard for it to be used in trials. If they'd have used it back then, things would have been different. She'd had a soft spot for the black sheep. The House of Black outcast. She had summarised that if he had the chance for people to judge him and not his name, then maybe he could have been saved. Or if someone had simply thought to check the wands for previous spell cast; they would have found that Pettigrew's wand had done the deed. That, if this new serum had been found, that maybe he could have been given a retrial once Mr P Pettigrew had been busted.

Sirius, if he had been given a new chance, could have been a free man. A broken free man, but free none the less. But it was never meant to be. Sirius had died a wanted man for a crime he didn't commit.

This new serum, the one to replace Veritaserum, would change lives. Hermione was spearheading this campaign.

For Sirius.


	24. W is for Wands

**The twenty third of 26 short stories with Hermione, Ron and the kids during their younger years.**

 _Nearly at the end too. Will be posting other fics either in the process or after this one though I have many ideas and started but half done._

W is for Wands.

Rose was alarmed. Her shouts could be heard from around the house. Hugo simply rolls his eyes, continuing to watch the tv. The cartoons were far more important than whatever she was being dramatic about now. Ron's thundering footsteps echo as he darts upstairs. Hermione, whose lap was occupied by her son, simply runs a hand down his arm lightly. Ronald always dealt with Rose better.

Rose was sat upon her bed, her pale face streaked with tears. Heavy sobs wrack her small frame as Ron pulls her into a big hug. Once she was calm, hiccups appear causing her to chuckle. She slowly explains what had happened. She'd been thinking about space again, her mind wandering. A book on her bookshelf had moved. Ron could see which one she mentioned for the spine was sticking out from the others about an inch. Ron notes mentally how ironic it was, books moving, identical to how her mother had discovered magic.

Going downstairs hand in hand, she clutches the offending book to her chest. Hermione gives Ron a questioning look over Hugo's head. Sitting Rose upon his lap he coaxes her to tell her mother; a gentle smile appearing across Hermione's face. She knew of that exact feeling of uncomfortable mindness and unexplainable things happening as a consequence.

Rose knew of magic, she'd seen them do it all of the time. But this was strange. Just being able to do a small amount of it had thrown her. She knew the story of Matilda; knew her mother related to it. Hermione quietly explains to Rose that she had done the same, the book a crutch of sorts, something familiar while unexplainable things happen. She didn't have the understanding that Rose had with them.

She has so many questions; mainly of channelling magic. She knows that both her parents were capable of silent magic, and that they used a wand. But how could a stick be magic?

Ron summons his wand from the coffee table in front of them, presenting it to his daughter. He tells her the story of Ollivander and his shop in Diagon Alley. His first wand had been Charlie's. A twelve-inch ash and unicorn hair which was a little rough around the edges. Hermione snorts lightly at this, knowing of just how bad it had been. The unicorn's hair had been poking out the end and had caused all sorts of issues. The Weasley's couldn't afford a new one. Back in '92 it had snapped in half when he came a cropper with the Whomping Willow. The Spello-tape hadn't been able to hold it together. Spells and that incident with Malfoy and the Slugs, which sounds like a cool band, had been just one in a long line of mishaps. It had a final minor victory when Lockhart had tried to obliviate his and Harry's memories in the Chamber of Secrets. This in turn had saved Ginny.

His second wand, the one currently in Rose's hands, was slightly longer. The fourteen-inch still had unicorn hair core but was of willow. This suited him better, his magic ability shining. Bit ironic in a way; the first one being damaged by a willow then this new one being of it. It was then that Hermione explains the meaning behind such implements.

The ash wand has one true master and shouldn't be passed on or gifted from the original owner. This will make it will lose power and skill. Which all makes sense especially with Ron's original magic ability. It would be worse if, like Charlie's wand, was of unicorn hair. The unicorn hair produces the most consistent magic and is least subject to fluctuations and blockages. It's also most difficult to turn to the Dark Arts and the most faithful of wands. His new willow wand was less common and known for its healing power, and Ollivander had once noted that the owner often had insecurity, however well they may try and hide it. Which Hermione pointed out, was true for her Husband.

She then shows Rose, and the now curious Hugo, her own. The ten and three-quarter inch vine with dragon heartstring had come from Ollivander's back in 1991. Hermione had been in awe of the floor to ceiling boxes containing wands. Ollivander spouting that they wand chooses the wizard.

She also comments of her dislike of having to use, Her, wand while escaping The Manor. The twelve and three-quarter inch walnut wand had dragon heartstring like her own. It had felt wrong to use it but the had no other option. It wasn't just physically hard, but also the psychology behind it. It was the wand that had killed Sirius. The one that had hexed him, causing him to fall through the veil. It was the wand that had taken Neville's parents from him. The wand that had tortured them into oblivion. She had to use the wand against its own owner in the final battle.

Her actual wand had been returned to her when the Ministry had invaded The Manor. Those who had dealt in the Dark Arts had their confiscated. Bellatrix's wand, along with the rest had been burned to a crisp. Those on the right side had been buried with theirs as per custom.

Rather amazed by this Hugo decided to head into the back garden, finding a stick from the oak tree in the very bottom corner. This tree, Hugo noted, was his favourite. His tree house was nestled within it's branches. The den one place that Rose was forbidden to go, just like her attic.

Rose joins him, snapping a branch off the beech hedges that surround the perimeter. Together they run around the garden, chasing each other and shouting muggle spells like abracadabra, alakazam and bibbidi-bobbidi-boo. This was one of Rose's favourites that she learnt from Cinderella's fairy godmother. Others like hocus pocus, mumbo-jumbo and shazam could also be heard. Ron commented that they should use jiggery-pokery and hey presto as he joins his wife at the kitchen window. They stand with their arms round each other's waists, mugs in hands, watching their children play. Hugo chases Rose, wiggling and waving his wand. Shouting out made up words and rhymes. Rose switches and retaliates laughing with longer and more complicated phrases.

Rose's new magic ability was forgotten as the kids were simply being young and joyful. Simple evenings playing in the garden.

Wands, make shift or real, were fun for everyone.


	25. X is for Xeno Lovegood and The Quibbler

**The twenty fourth of 26 short stories with Hermione, Ron and the kids during their younger years.**

 _Got stuck on this one so it's a stretch and rather short. My apologies._

X is for Xeno Lovegood and The Quibbler.

A rather round Aunt Luna had dropped off the latest edition of The Quibbler. Rose had opened the door for her, leaving to go back to watching a Space documentary on the tv. Ron was outside in the tree house. Hermione was at the Ministry doing 'Important Work'. Rose takes the tabloid from Luna, placing it on the coffee table. This month's front page about rampaging fairies. Rose attempts to hide her scorn, her nose crinkling disbelief, akin to her mother's reaction. Rose knew that fairies were real; muggles loved them. The vain but beautiful creatures were deemed cute. She still wasn't sure that they could rampage, the word sounding strange and powerful. Nothing like the tiny creatures themselves.

Luna, in seeing the familiar expression, had explained that her father had witnessed it. Xenophilius was the editor and publisher of the paper; known as 'The Wizarding Worlds Alternative Voice.' His strange white candy-flossy hair and squint combined with the airy attitude was hard to comprehend by Rose, but she also understood where Aunt Luna had got it from. The fairies who lived in the glen at the base of the rook-shaped house, had apparently been disturbed by the resident garden gnomes. The agitated beauty queens had gotten all up in arms at the potato-like creatures, hordes of them bonding to attack them. From the edges of the woodland they could be seen aiming small pebbles at them, hiding in the hedges. Eventually the dispute had been settled and lines redrawn.

Rose was unsure of what to think of the tale. Gnomes, she knew, looked awful and could bite. Fae had weaker magic but were fairly happy but vain. Each Christmas one adorned Granny Molly's Christmas tree and was partial to casting glitter over whoever was nearby. The thought of the two fighting was rather amusing. But then, this was Aunt Luna and The Quibbler after all.

But they had stood by Uncle Harry even when The Daily Prophet hadn't. The adults had deliberately given The Quibbler the inside scoop when The Prophet had been controlled by the Ministry. Something about burying their heads in the sand and anyone who was against Lord Voldemort and backing Harry should be reading it, though it had been ban number twenty-seven for a while by The Pink Devil, whoever that was.

Even now they were all partial to giving Aunt Luna the chance of a story before The Prophet. The unusual theories and advanced lunacy had an unintentional humour about it all. It was known for it. Xeno and Luna Lovegood; the Loonies and their hard to believe stories.


	26. Y is for Yelling

**The twenty fifth of 26 short stories with Hermione, Ron and the kids during their younger years.**

 **A/N Mr Delacour doesn't have a known name. It's noted that the one I have chosen's meaning is 'Wood, Forest' and it's a French variation of the Roman wood god's name Sylvan/Sylvanus. (Nameberry). I like the fact that it's nature like Fleur but also a god like Apolline (Apollo). Only issue is Gabrielle which is more religious.**

 **And so, the penultimate chapter is here, it feels like I started writing these ages ago. The notebook full of scribbles and scrawls of minor planning, most of which is rather illegible but hey ho. We've gotten there in the end although most of which you all read has been edited from those initial concepts. Just one more to go after this one.**

Y is for Yelling.

Thirteen grandchildren plus Frank the Second were running around the boundaries within The Burrow. The racket that they were making could be heard from the distant house. The natural and magical beings creating a faint hum in the undergrowth. Birds and bees. Gnomes and fairies. Crazy coloured hyperactive beings dashing and darting, hiding and seeking.

Together they didn't understand the concept of peace and quiet. Together the Weasley Grandkids do fun and laughter. They were loud and crazy, and that's the way the liked it. They shouted. They screamed. They chanted. They yelled.

This was the last time that they would be together until Christmas. Christmas was ages away. Teddy would be back at Hogwarts for his third year. Victoire they very first of the Grandkids and the Delacour's to attend. This prompted her to ask how the school compared to Beauxbatons. The French school had never really been in contention, much to Apolline and Sylvain's slight dismay. They understood, of course, their daughter and grandchildren were living in England. Growing up in England. Were English. Gabrielle had encouraged them, encouraged her niece. She told of her short time there; of the Triwizard Tournament. Of Harry also rescuing her after Fleur got attacked by grindylows. Vic was thoroughly glad to be joining Teddy; trailblazing the new family thing.

The youngest of them all; Lily, Hugo and Roxy, had conspired that nothing would really change. It wouldn't, thankfully. For them it was a few days in a muggle nursery then afternoons at home or here with Granny Molly. Rose would start school on Wednesday too along with Albus. They give up trying to keep up with the others, the trio taking a slow wander through the orchard, staring longingly at the out of reach apples.

The house, with less kids in the distance, was a tad quieter and was thankfully calmer. Mitzy was pottering about in the kitchen. Molly had fallen asleep in the armchair. Arthur, plus the kids who weren't really kids anymore, were enjoying the streets of muggle London, plotting a surprise for Molly. The lady in question, enjoying her nap, had a rare moment to herself. The kids looked after themselves and each other on days like this. Long, lazy, playful summer days.

The kids were loud, bubbly and energetic. Worse when they were together. Some more introverted and quieter, preferring to observe and occasionally take part. The others extroverted, louder and more focused on the limelight. They were all happy and content. A mismatch of hair and eyes. Yet all Weasleys.

Not so long ago, kids were forced to grow up. They had to. The kids, now adults, were quieter, edgier, never really kids. They had more to deal with. The Grandkids could be anything they wished; they didn't have that pressure.

The kids could be kids. Loud. Energetic. Crazy. Kids.


	27. Z is for Zoo

**The final one of the short stories with Hermione, Ron and the kids during their younger years.**

 _And so here we are, the final chapter. It's been a long time coming. Jumped a few hurdles and some of the letters didn't half give me a headache at times. Some, like this one, came easily and was written well before earlier letters. Doing 26 chapters with a set theme then trying to come up with comprehensive ideas for each which worked as stand-alone stories as well as part of the series had me throwing the notebook down in a huff on occasions._

* * *

Z is for Zoo.

Hermione was at work; knee deep in some sort of paperwork. This was their last fun activity for the summer. Rose started primary school on Wednesday, off to the small school on the other side of town. She was rather happy having to wear the lemon-yellow uniform. Just two days of having both kids together on a weekday until October half term. Their last request was to visit the zoo. Hermione had encouraged it. Ron had relented.

They'd come into London on the train, Hugo bouncing all the way there enjoying the locomotive. They'd taken a slow wander through Regents' Park. Stopping to smell the roses in Queen Mary's Gardens and chasing the ducks by the boating lake, wary of the hissing swans. They took a little longer than what Ron had hoped. The kids didn't care, they had all the time in the world. It was worse when they spotted a play park, both taking off to clamber, climb and slide. Taking a slow stroll to them he gives them ten minutes before mentioning the zoo.

Eventually they arrive joining the long queues. Neither Ron or the kids enjoyed waiting. Rose was sighing and Hugo was tapping. Ron was fed up. Their sentiments were mimicked by several other families around them as they shuffled forwards. Ron supposed that this was quieter, the older kids were now in school. The families with children were around the same age, five or younger, making it a toddler haven.

Once through the entrance, they consult the map that had been given to Ron. He didn't care where he went, as long as it avoided bugs and insects and especially spiders. He didn't do spiders. He and Harry had been too close to being Aragog and his offspring's lunch.

The kids were eager to see as many animals as possible. Rose was itching to go see her favourites, the penguins. Hugo's favourite changed every other day, typical of being so young. The compromise was visiting the penguins and reptiles; Hugo's latest favourite things, but with otters along the way.

Straight in front of them was the Gorilla Kingdom and various other monkeys. The exhibit had opened in 2007 featuring a moated island. Hugo had wondered why, Ron had to explain that it was to keep the large Kumbuka and his three females; Zaire, Mjuuku and Effie, safe from humans, or more likely the other way around although Ron didn't mention that. The smaller triangular faced Diana monkeys, the long-haired colobus, the small mangabeys in which the children found cuter. The larger pink bottomed Celebes crested macaques made Hugo snort and Rose giggle, were joined by the black and blue Congo Peafowl.

Heading far to the left and clockwise round they come across the penguins. The penguin beach contained seventy Humboldt penguins and a single rockhopper named Ricky. Rose was drawn to the funny little bird with yellow eyebrows and big personality. Ron read that it is the largest of all the penguin enclosures in any English zoo; given that Ron hadn't been to any more he decided that this one seemed like the place to be, if he were a penguin. It took a little while to persuade Rose to leave the birds as there were plenty more animals to see.

In Butterfly Paradise Hugo was a little wary; insisting that the butterflies may land on his head. He walked around with a very short neck and his hood up as a precaution like a little elf. Rose on the other hand was fascinated by the colours and delicateness of the insects, sighing softly at the beautiful Glasswing, its transparent wings so delicate that she was itching to touch it but knew better not to.

As they exit the butterflies they come across a flock of strange pink birds. The rather funny looking feathery friends stood on one leg and had a really long neck and a bill. Ron reads the sign; flamingos. Tiny little fluffy white chicks flap at the larger birds' feet. For all the birds in the zoo, Ron had decided that these funny looking things were one of his favourite.

The lions awed Ron and the kids the Asiatic cats large and prowling. A keeper nearby noted that the now depilated enclosure was to be refurbished in the future in a five-year plan, somewhere that was a little more interactive for the kids and helped the big cats act as natural as if they were in the wild.

They avoided the BUGS; Biodiversity Underpinning Global Survival and the Web of Life enclosure, much to not only Ron's relief but also to Hugo and Rose who were less fond of spiders, ants and other bugs that would be in it. The Blackburn Pavilion next door housed tropical birds, Hugo keeping his hood up so the birds couldn't land on his head. The flashes of colour in wings and beaks and small bodies entranced Rose.

The Meet the Monkey enclosure had curious squirrel monkeys inside, the walk-through meaning that they were free to roam. Hugo held his dads hand tight as he eyeballed the primates.

The Animal Adventure enclosure right at the top of the zoo, had domesticated animals like the cute meerkats which Hugo found entertaining. Farm animals such as sheep, donkeys and goats which they fed and petted along with the llamas and kune-kune pigs. As cute as they were Ron preferred them on a sandwich; crispy rashers with plenty of ketchup. They were amused by the coati's and aardvarks the two children noting the similarity in face shape to badgers.

Tiger territory to the right of the gorillas was, like the lions, due to be refurbished in the next couple of years. The stripy cats so close to them they were glad that there was glass. Hugo was torn to which he preferred; lions or tigers. Lions made him think of Disney while tigers seemed to do more.

They follow the path to the smaller area consisting of the Bird Safari, the reptile house, and the Giants of the Galapagos exhibit. The safari followed a path showing off various storks, a bald looking ibis and other birds with strange names. Ron noted that they only roller that he knew of was a paint roller, less so a blue bellied one.

The reptile house made him shudder; he wasn't fond of snakes, lizards, crocodiles and such. Hugo, in seeing the brightly coloured frogs decided that he liked those better than anything else in the exhibit. His favouritism to the frogs now ahead of the lizards that he liked before entering. Rose was torn over what she thought of the axolotl; the funny newt thing was cute in a way though she wouldn't want to cuddle it. The building was also used for functions though, Ron thought, why you would want to party with them, he couldn't understand.

The Giants of the Galapagos exhibit was tamer than the reptile house; Ron's heart rate returning to normal. The large tortoises seemed rather idle and slow; munching their way through lettuce and other leafy veg. Dirk and his three ladies; Dolly, Polly and Pricilla would probably chomp your finger off though.

Next door was where Hugo fell in love. Ganas the Komodo dragon, was a lizard of sorts rather than a winged magical beast. He lived in a dry river bed type enclosure; sounds of the rainforest echoing through. The world's largest and heaviest lizard had toxic saliva deadly to everything but another of its kind. The bowed legged beast was quick; short bursts of up to eleven mph allowed it to chase prey; leaving other reptiles and mammals, and even other baby dragons, to slowly die once bitten then returning to feed. It was even known to kill humans, although a rare thing. Hugo was in awe of the muggle thing that was closest to the magical realm. He now had a new favourite animal; oh, how he would have to show Uncle Charlie.

The bottom right corner with the Grade two listed building that is the Mappin Terraces used for events and outback with the massive red kangaroos and small Bennet's wallabies. The large feathery and vicious looking emus. Both kids had kept away from them, wary of the flightless birds.

They spent a while in the aquarium in front of the Terraces. The building dated back to 1852; one of the oldest in the zoo and consisted of three halls. The first containing fresh water fish and eels, mimicking rivers and lakes around the world. The second a bright coral reef full of clownfish, Nemo's Hugo had corrected, and pretty Copperband butterflyfish with its yellow stripes and regal tangs, Dory, Rose had also corrected Ron. The third hall was the largest of the three, the Amazonian River full of red bellied piranhas, angelfish, the awful looking arapaima and stingrays.

They take the right-hand tunnel next to the entrance, under the outer circle road and into the other section of the park which leads to Into Africa which re-opened in spring 2006 and the only building in the zoo which is still used for its original purpose. The high-level platform brought them face to face with the lanky Rothschild giraffes; Hugo commenting that they reminded him of his father. Even Ron had to laugh at that. Pygmy hippos made Rose fuss, calling them cute as they wallowed they were joined by Chapmans zebra and African wild dogs. The warthogs made the children break into Hakuna Matata and the okapi, a half zebra giraffe thing which Ron found a little hard to believe actually existed.

The Snowdon Aviary opposite, in its geometric glory, contained pretty peacocks and green peafowl which flapped as you walked through; again, Hugo put his hood up. Ibis and egrets of various sorts also occupied the enclosure. There were owls in the next enclosure, all familiar to the trio.

The take the long path back around, passing the other tunnel to the main part of the zoo. Here they find the Happy Families exhibit. Around here they find more meerkats and short clawed otters which made Ron think of his wife and how much she would love doing this with the kids. The learning and fun involved had expanded their awareness of the world. The romp of otters were the smallest in the species, and far too cute and playful, squeaking and diving in the water or sunbathing.

They follow this along to Rainforest Life; a walk-through exhibit with two toed sloths, and armadillos, a female tamandua named Tammy, the anteater-y looking animal was rather cute. Plus, three types of marmosets, titi monkeys with tiny round faces and the feathered sunbittern birds. The Night Life enclosure with Seba's short tailed bats, slender lorises and the strange looking pottos which both appeared to be something similar to a monkey but with more spindly and skinny fingers and large eyes. They couldn't decide if they were cute or creepy. All three weren't too fond of the Australian water rats and the Malagasy giant rats that were also in the enclosure.

They watch the lemurs sunbathe in the tree tops. And wonder what an aye-aye was; some sort of big eyed and eared, long fingered primate who came out at night. They retrace their steps back up the right-hand tunnel and loop back round past the gorillas. They follow the outside towards the terrace restaurant; Ron glad that they had packed sandwiches and could eat on the go. The kids stopping at Barclay Court to have a shot on the cheery carousel, Ron watching from the picnic benches beside the attraction, clutching their backpacks as they squeal with joy.

They spend a while in the gift shop. Rose's penguins were easy to find merchandise for; she chose a small stuffed rockhopper and a blue book full of penguin facts. Hugo found a stuffed Komodo toy, adamant that it was what he wanted and wouldn't let it go. Ron tried to persuade him to find something smaller but Hugo threw a toddler tantrum, huffing and stomping his foot until his dad caved.

On the way out, retracing back through Regent's park, the kids wonder if there were any magical equivalent of the zoo. Ron didn't know but considering there were Magizoologist like Newton Scamander and Luna, then maybe it wasn't impossible, but the thought of having such a large area full of magical creatures was dangerous. Especially in a muggle world.

The train back home was quieter; the kids recharging. Arriving home, they find their mother just through the door and bombard her with all the animals that they had seen. Hermione simply pulls them to the sofa where she sits with them properly, listening as they recall their day. Later on, when the kids were snuggled in bed with their new stuffed animals, Ron gives Hermione a present. A small keyring in the shape of an otter, for her house keys. It wasn't a lot but the gesture brought a smile to Hermione's lips.

The children loved the zoo, and one day, the four of them would go back.

* * *

 _Another A/N: I'm glad the final chapter is on something I enjoy. I've yet to visit London Zoo but had fun researching its history as it's been updated since this fic was set. Also that after this was written the ZSL had a fire (Dec 17) and lost an aardvark which was sad._

 _I'm sad to see the small world of Hermione, Ron and the Kids go but also glad to be moving forward onto other things. I hope everyone has enjoyed it; I had fun writing it even if it got a bit tough at times. Thanks for reading, Lorna x_


End file.
